


Freak Show || The Witcher

by rnythingale



Series: 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯 [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Adventure, Bad Blood, Blood, Dame - Freeform, Danyll, Dead Posey, F/M, Fan-fiction, Fantasy, Freak, Freak Show, Guardian - Freeform, Horror, Mystery, Netflix series, Paranormal, Posey - Freeform, Rozeman, Spiritual, Werewolf, Witcher - Freeform, bad, dead, netflix, show, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:48:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 39
Words: 52,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21915511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rnythingale/pseuds/rnythingale
Summary: [The Witcher | Netflix Series, Season 1]𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍.Danyll of Ozryn is - or at some point, 𝘸𝘢𝘴 - the only female witcher that Vesemir, of the best witcher master from Kaer Morhen, has ever tested the trials of the grasses on. Fortunately, she survived - with a cost of leaving everything in her past life behind and soon forgetting it, however, she remembers the cracks of time in the form of nightmares.She, even without any help from people, can survive alone - after all, she did survive the trials of the grasses. However, destiny prevails when she's reunited with an old boon, Geralt of Rivia, to both become the Butchers of Blaviken. It takes months to destroy such reputation, yet every time they attempt to, it creeps on them. This time, Danyll is not leaving Geralt's side like the first time.This time, destiny has changed its course on their fate together.—
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia / Danyll of Ozryn, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia / Original Female Character(s)
Series: 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578463
Comments: 16
Kudos: 149





	1. 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢

⚔️ DISCLAIMER ⚔️

_This story contains mature content such as sexual advances/imagery, foul language, self-harm and (maybe) graphic depictions of violence._

⸢ CAST  ⸣

Henry Cavill as _Geralt of Rivia_

Karen Gillan as _Danyll of Ozryn_

⸤CAST ⸥

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> [](https://www.instagram.com/rnythingale/)  
>    
> 


	2. 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢

* * *

The moonlight shines below to the village, mimicking fireflies that can conjure white lights on their bottom and they’ve collected themselves into a circle in the sky. Glistening and flickering stars are existing in the navy blue sky and this is the indication for the village that currently, is nighttime and it’s bedtime. So, everyone has shut their doors from strangers to walk in, shut the windows so that the room won’t grow colder than usual and fires flickering on wicks of candles to illuminate throughout the night. This is the kind of night this village tends to survive with over the past few years.

_ Tend _ to.

In a medium-sized house, there is a couple that works for the king. The man’s name is Soloman Gylbart, a general to the king’s army in the day and at night, he will be bringing his best boons into his home and entertain them with the finest ale that can afford, and his wife, Brigida Swetelove, would invite the king’s maidens (for his children) to her house so they can help each other sew things or learn new recipes through the many books Brigida had bought through travelling from town to town when it comes to trying to find spices and elements of food.

With the couple, they conceived on their wedding night. After a few weeks, Brigida suffered symptoms of carrying a babe in her lower abdomen. Since the excitement bubbled up, she maintains the goal of ensuring the food intake and the fetus’s health. Then, nine months later, the little girl was born. They had expected it to be a boy but they were fine enough with a girl, as she’s destined to be a housekeeper or a housewife for the man, which, Brigida finds it a little it degrading on her part. 

Five years have gone by and the little girl has grown up. Currently, she’s in her room  _ supposed _ to sleep, however, she’s on her floor playing with her ragdolls that her mother had sewn for her. She pretends that the two dolls are best of friends, as one is male and the other is female, and she doesn’t have many male friends as they didn’t like her at all for some odd reason. Nevertheless, it doesn’t stop her from pretending to have a best friend of her own. 

She gets scared by the outburst of her father’s booming laughter and cowers into the carpet of her room. After a while, she realises that neither of her parents is awake. So, she opens the door silently and tiptoes down the stairs, looking by the handrail, he sees that his father has gotten himself drunk once more and her mother is too busy cooking with the castle maids. So, she dashes to her father’s study and grabs the dagger from it and along with her cloak, as she knows that the boys of the village tend to sneak out of their homes to play games by the forest. 

She clips her cloak together and hides the dagger underneath it, exiting the house and slowly closes the door. As her parents told her, she should  _ always _ follow the rock path that leads to their house; but what if she doesn’t want to? She looks at the rocky path with looming curiosity, tracing the steps and balancing herself until she falls to the side. Instead of crying because of the pain, she laughs and does it again. At some point, she’s found herself in  _ big _ trouble. 

The little girl belonging to Soloman and Brigida has found herself in the forest. She looks around for the boys and girls that would sneak out at night, but no one is there — not a single scent or evidence of life. As she’s about to cry, desperate to return home and receive a spanking as a way to repent for her misbehaviour, she walks into something that neighs on its two back legs and the front thuds on the ground. She cowers into her cloak, scared by the man’s flashing amber eyes amidst the shadowy character of his whole being.

“Are you lost, little lady?” He asks.

“I…” She musters, too shy. She does well with strangers but how is it  _ this _ man is the one that’s making her uncomfortable?

He slides down his saddle and kneels in front of her. “Do you have any friends?”

She shakes her head.

“A family?” 

She nods.

“Ah, but where are they?” The man asks, raising an eyebrow.

The little shrugs; the man chuckles. 

“I am a man from a magical land. You see, I can do things no human can, and… if you follow me, I’ll be able to teach you these things,” He conjures fire in his hand, amusing the little girl. “Do you want to know how to do that?” He asks; the little girl nods. “Well, you have to say yes once you’ve made up your mind,” 

“Yes,” The little girl says.

The man smiles, nodding.


	3. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢

* * *

She rarely dreams; that's what's been confirmed to her years ago. Whenever she goes to sleep peacefully, she only sees pitch-black darkness and she would find herself in that darkness, sitting on the ground with her legs crossed. Her hands are on her knees and she would shut her eyes, imagining things that would calm her down. Fighting monsters with her silver sword, grabbing anything belonging to them to use for alchemy, and then get payment, although she doesn't really care about coins as much as getting free service for saving the town or village.

Currently, she sees herself staring at the darkness and hallucinating things. She watches herself fighting a dummy, that happened back in _Kaer Morhen_ , and her mentor, Vesemir, claps her back in pride. He's always seen her as a daughter of his own as he'd always said that he found her on the streets, attempting to find her way back home but she became lost. Nonetheless that she is the first of the witcher kind, she tries her best to fit in everywhere. Vesemir's always told her that the finest art in surviving as a witcher is to blend in, regardless of the characteristics that show oddity among society.

 _Danyll of Ozryn_ , first of her kind and the sole protector of a kingdom, resembles some of the witchers that had gone through the Trials of Grasses. She developed long locks of white hair and her eyes changed from the previous colour, which she had long forgotten, into a pair of ruby eyes that shine brightly underneath the moonlight. Her skin grew paler than ever as if she's a walking dead body. She couldn't care less about her appearance as she's used to it by then. Her witcher-brothers developed the same thing as her, so she didn't feel left out. Hell, Vesemir has white hair even before showing his slow ageing, and his eyes are amber-coloured.

Danyll stands on the pitch-black ground, hand holding the hilt of her sword behind her. However, the sword seems non-existent and she panics subtly. She hears a low growl in front of her and she turns her gaze, finding that a Vukodlak is standing in front of her. The creature so vile of its freak mutation; its eyes so dark that it emits a mirror of its own where Danyll sees none in her. The Vukodlak tries to hurt Danyll as it charges at her but Danyll dodges, rolling across the floor and tries to draw out the other sword but nothing is producing. She resorts to her dagger that she calls _Rose_. She is weaponless.

Danyll's eyes hurt a lot as the eyelids pop open to reveal that it's already morning. She groans, rubbing her eyes and turning to her side, almost letting out a yelp when a hairy-chest man appears with his seductive smile on his face. Danyll tries to recall the previous night's doing, and all she can remember is being approached by a drunken man who complimented her endlessly and she, growing tired of the man's attempt of persuading her, falls for the trap of sleeping with her. She grunts, shaking her head.

"Good morning, love," He smiles, stroking her cheek. "Had a nice sleep?"

"My view is ruining my morning already," Danyll replies and he simply laughs, without an ounce of offence. She climbs out of bed and walks over to the fireplace, where it's drying her clothes and armour from the rain yesterday. She starts to wear her linen shirt and leather pants. "I'm not in the mood for anything. Please, get out of the room," She says, wearing her scabbard on the back and is halted when the man holds her. "Get your dirty hands off of me by the time I count to three," She threatens to the man who's shakily smiling. " _One_..." He quickly puts down his hands. "Much better."

"Why so feisty? Was last night bad?" The man pouts.

"Yes," She doesn't bother thinking about last night. She wears her necklace and huffs, looking at him. "I won't discuss last night's ill pleasure. I'd just say that your satisfaction is not _my_ satisfaction, so move along. I have to go somewhere," She pushes herself away from the man and walks out of the room, descending the stairs into a room full of people who are enjoying their breakfast. She approaches the bar, sitting on the stool and the barmaid stands with her eyebrow cocked. "Breakfast like the rest and a cup of ale,"

"'Aight,"

Danyll places a few coins on the table once the barmaid produces a wooden plate of food. Danyll's never one for a full stomach but for some reason, today she feels like devouring whatever is on the plate — two blood sausages, an egg that's got caramelised sides and a slice of bread. Danyll hums, picking apart the bread and eats it with the blood sausages before eating the egg. As she devours the food completely, she feels whole as if her stomach's been fed after a century of starvation. The barmaid, then, serves the ale she required and she downs everything that's been stuck to her throat down into her stomach, and she calls for more. She licks her fingers and hums in satisfaction, drinking the ale. She turns around and hops off the stool when she almost collides with a man who's frightened.

"You're the witcher, yes?" He asks, desperate.

Danyll stares at him, not confirming her identity.

"We need your help... there are creatures that threaten to eat us alive!" He exaggerates with his hands. "They're ugly and they live in the swamps! Please, help us, witcher. We can't cross the lands to buy crops from other villages! They've taken our people and they're threatening to come onto dry land," He says, frowning. Danyll simply hums. "I will pay you one-hundred crowns,"

"Alright," Danyll nods. "But you must ask your fellows to not stray into the swamps. The creatures you describe are dangerous and they feed off of fear," Danyll says and the man nods, running out of the inn to tell his farmer friends. Danyll turns around to the barmaid, who simply smiles at her. "I've paid for my room and my food, g'day," She walks out of the inn and walks towards the farm, where a group of men are cornering the man she encountered before. It seems that they're not happy with his decision to call for help, especially from a witcher. A _female_ witcher. "Hello, boys," She greets them, earning turned stares. "Is there a problem?"

"You ought to know your place, bitch!" One of the farmers spits on her.

Danyll blinks her eyes, wiping away the spit and flicks it back at that man. "Funny. I can sense your agitation and fear from these creatures and you _think_ you can defeat them, but you have no idea what they are," Danyll walks up to them and the men cower back. "You have your boys with you," She looks at the short boys and tall adolescents. "You think disrespecting a woman is a good image for your kins?"

"You are no woman nor no human!" The man cries. "My boy has learned that witchers are the hell-born creatures of this realm!"

"Papa," His boy says. "Let the woman help us,"

"No way in Hell!"

"Listen to your youngling," Danyll snorts. "As I've said to your man, stay away from the swamp as I kill these beasts," She walks away from them as they protest at the idea of getting help from her. She walks for the path that leads to the swamp, and silence surrounds her. There are fishes in the swamps, swimming around idly and Danyll doesn't dare to disturb them as they're living freely. Then, the grasses swiftly move and she's quick to draw out her silver sword, having a good guess on what the creatures are which lurk the swamps.

Before the creature can take a bite on Danyll, she brandishes it on the creature down its throat, injuring it as it cries due to the injury and the fact that she's used a silver sword on a creature like a _water hag_. Danyll smiles. "So, you're the creature that threatens to walk off to dry land, hm?" She holds her sword in the air, flat and rests it against her wrist before bending down at the creature's attempt to scratch her. She runs her sword upwards and cuts off the _water hag_ 's arm, causing the creature to scream in terror. Following behind it are _drowners_ , responding to the _water hag_ 's call of help.

"You've got friends," Danyll shouts, stabbing the first drowner in the stomach and pulls her sword upwards. Blood splatter onto her face and clothes; she smiles. "That's nice," The second drowner jumps itself on Danyll, landing her into the water and half her head is drenched in water. She struggles with the drowner, sword dropped beside her. The drowner attempts to take a bite of Danyll on the throat and she draws out her dagger, stabbing the drowner in the neck. It starts to lose its breathing as Danyll drags down the dagger and pulls it out, puncturing it on the side and it cries in pain.

Danyll pushes the drowner out of the way and pushes herself up, facing the water hag that's saggy bosoms are hanging that it touches its bloated belly. Danyll smiles, rolling across the water when the water hag tries to scratch her and Danyll grabs her sword, standing up and swinging her sword on the water hag's other arm. The water hag screams in pain, walking, armless now. However, that doesn't stop the water hag from running to her and attempt to bite off the flesh from her neck, and as it attempts to do that, Danyll stabs Rose into its chest, where the water hag tries to cry but Danyll pushes the dagger in further. She pulls it out, and the creature falls onto the ground, dead.

She examines the bodies and collects meat and their organs for alchemy. Danyll walks back to the village, where the people are waiting for her survival. Once she shows her face, the people who had been rooting for her bursts into cheers and continues to hug Danyll. Danyll stands with shock, somewhat uncomfortable from the touching. She manages to pull herself away and walk towards her horse, and before she can make her way to the next place for monsters, the barmaid from the inn earlier produces her fresh, juicy meat and a bottle of ale.

"Compensation for your bravery, miss,"


	4. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔬

* * *

Danyll and her horse, Grand, canter across the land on the dirt road that continues to show the path. It must've been days since they left the village where she fought off a water hag and drowners, and received meat and a drink for compensation over the annoyed farmers' egos. Danyll soothes Grand's mane as she slows down the creature upon entering borders of a village. The guards of the kingdom affiliated with this village are guarding the borders and they look at Danyll suspiciously. Danyll puts on her hood, nodding at the man while Grand struts into the village.

It's a fairly big village for one. Like most of the ones she encounters, there's a blacksmith and a merchant's store, and at the end of one lane is an inn, which she can take the night to for now until she journeys for the next village, which is Blaviken. Grand walks through the dirt path between people that don't really seem to care about Danyll's presence here. She's always heard the rough tales of previous witchers that get the stink-eye and bad-mouths whenever they roam around in a village, town or city, but she's never had that happen to her. Maybe it's because people turn a blind eye on the hidden tale of the first _female_ witcher. This thought makes Danyll smile a little, and she approaches an inn where there's a stable.

"Nice horse," A young boy compliments Danyll once he finishes brushing another horse standing at the next spot. "What's 'is name?"

"Her," Danyll corrects him. "Her name's Grand," She slides down her saddle and strokes Grand's cheek, which Grand shakes her head on the touch. "Are you the stableboy?" She asks at the young man, who nods and gestures at the brush. "I'll pay you five crowns to take proper care of my lovely. Does that sound alright?" She grins, pulling out her bag of coins from her satchel hanging down Grand. The young boy nods frantically and holds out one hand. "I'll give you another five if she survives the next morning. Come by the inn to claim your payment," She hands the promised coins.

The young boy is in amazement, counting the crowns. Before Danyll can walk, he shoots up his head. "Are you a witcher, lady?" He asks; Danyll stops, looking down at the ground before hanging her head over her shoulder to see the young boy using her peripheral vision. "It's just that... your eyes isn't normal, y'see? They's red like roses. Pretty ones," He smiles, rocking himself back and forth on his shoes. "And also, there was another witcher that paid me crowns to take care of 'is horse,"

Danyll hums, turning around. "Do you remember the horse's name?"

"Nah, not really," He shakes his head. "I'll take care of yo' horsey!"

Danyll chuckles, nodding before walking into the inn and approaches the barmaid that's sweeping the bar area. Danyll pulls down her hood, revealing her silver-hair that's tied into a bun and a few strands let loose down by her cheeks. The barmaid looks at Danyll and squeaks a little, placing a hand against her chest to soothe her poor heart. Danyll places two crowns onto the table for drinks to accompany her for the rest of the day and the barmaid nods, wandering off to the cellar where her finest drinks are.

Danyll takes a seat at the back, finding comfort in the solo shadow. She looks at the unlit candle and pinches her fingers to light up the wick. She removes her gloves and sets it aside in order to warm up her hand and gradually, Danyll feels the warmth radiating from the middle of her palm to the rest of her hand. By then, the barmaid approaches the table with a large, copper jug and a cup for Danyll to drink the drink out of.

"You ought to scare the shit out of an old lady, y'know that?" The barmaid chuckles, shaking her head. "You's a witcher?"

Danyll pours herself a large cup of ale and drinks it. Somehow, her thought of being an unknown person in this town has come to an end. ' _Is it because of the previous witcher that came by?_ ' She thinks, drinking the ale in one gulp. Even though she hasn't replied to the barmaid's thought, she is quite uncomfortable at the constant stare the lady has on Danyll. Danyll hums.

"Yes, I am. What gives it away?" Danyll forces a smile.

"Well, missy, you sat in 'is place last time and the lad had the same hair colour as yous," The barmaid nods. "He had yellow eyes, unlikes yous. Yous' red like a gem," She's about to walk away when she turns around and looks at Danyll. "He's a sharp character, yous see. Jaw so sharp, mouth so thin and pale, and his hair... it resembles a snow wolf," Danyll's attention has been undivided. "His name... I think's Geralt. Geralt of Rivia. He was 'eaded for Blaviken upon finding a poster about a monster wanted by their alderman,"

Danyll chugs the rest of the drink in her cup and rushes out of the inn, pulling out five crowns from her bag. "Hey, kid," She calls for the young boy in charge of Grand. "Here are the five crowns I promised," She places them in his hands, sliding onto Grand's saddle and grips the reins tightly. "Point me to Blaviken," She says. The young boy points and she clenches her legs against Grand's sides and Grand begins to gallop out of the town, following the path where it's dirt path for the rest of it.

She's come across the sight of people on their crop fields and the rest are bandits who are prepared to take down Danyll. She can tell that Grand's fearful of them, but she whips the reins and quickens Grand's pace towards Blaviken. She can tell that something's ought to be wrong with Geralt. ' _Anything is bad luck with me_ ,' She can remember him saying that to her when they were training in the woods together, and somewhere inside of her doesn't want his blood to be in her hands knowing that he's in Blaviken — if anything _is_ to happen to him.

Danyll gallops into the swamps, almost seeing the light at the end of the hole when Grand neighs on its two back legs and Danyll loses her grip, falling behind. She groans, getting onto her elbow and makes sense of what stopped Grand from furthering their journey. Blinking her eyes, Danyll sees the remains of a deer; birds pecking their beaks into the meat. Danyll shoos the birds and interacts with the deer, only to smell a hint of _onion_. She can tell that that scent can belong to _no one_ but Geralt.

She climbs onto Grand's saddle and clenches Grand's sides before it starts running for Blaviken. As her eyes become sharper and her senses heightened, she can smell the onion with keen taste. Danyll leans forward, sniffing the air as much as she can that will lead her to Blaviken. To Geralt. People who are entering Blaviken's area jump out of place when they hear the sounds of the rapid thuds of a horse's four hooves and Danyll doesn't have the time to apologise for the frantic state she is in.

After a while of finding her way through the streets, she slides down of Grand and pulls down her hood, walking down the rocky path to find Geralt. The streets are awfully too quiet for her taste as it's a sense of impending _doom_. Danyll slowly walks to a small corner between the two-storey houses, drawing out her steel sword. " _She's at the tower with your little friend_ ," Danyll can hear a bandit's reply, an obvious mockery to Geralt. " _She gave us a message to pass on to you_ ," She slowly approaches, steps light like a feather as Vesemir had taught her. " _You have to choose the lesser evil. It's an ultimatum_ ,"

" _Fuck_ ," Geralt sighs.

Time slows down when an arrow from a crossbow shoots at Geralt direction and as Geralt's about to parry it, Danyll swiftly twirls herself into the fight and fend off the shot. Geralt blinks, looking at Danyll in utter surprise. However, they can't exchange pleasantries at the moment because now, the bandits see Danyll as an affiliate to Geralt, and together, they fight the bandits. Geralt attracts his own team of men and Danyll has her's. She uses Rose as a secondary weapon to cut through the men's throats and slice up their faces, and at some point, Geralt uses his telekinetic force against them and Danyll throws Rose at one of the bandits' face.

Danyll pulls out Rose.

"Geralt!" Cries a little girl.

Geralt and Danyll look at the direction of the cry. There's a brown-haired woman behind her, holding a sword against her throat. "No!" Geralt shouts. Danyll pieces about with this brown-haired woman being the bandits' leader.

"You chose..." The brown-haired woman exhales.

"Let the girl go," Geralt says.

"I will kill her," She threatens. "I will kill _everyone_ here until Stregobor comes down!"

"Leave Blaviken," Geralt advises, conjuring a blue mist in his hands, which Danyll recognises as the sign to manipulate one's mind. "It's not too late,"

"Magic doesn't work on me," The woman says. "Silver does though,"

"Silver is for monsters," Danyll scoffs.

The brown-haired woman takes that as an offence, throwing the young girl aside and prepares her sword. Geralt and Danyll pull behind, their weapons are drawn. "If we cross swords..." Geralt warns.

"I won't be able to stop," The woman says, beginning to swing her sword at the direction of Geralt and Danyll, which both block with their steel weapons. Geralt parries the woman's blow when she swings around, causing the sword to graze against Danyll's cheek and Danyll is thrown back. Geralt pushes the woman against the wall, their swords near their faces and necks. "They created me _just_ as they created you. We're not so different!"

For a moment, Danyll can hear Geralt's grunt. She sees that the brown-haired woman stabbed him in the abdomen, which Danyll didn't worry much about. Wiping the blood off her face, she joins the duel once more and the sounds of steel against each other echo through the area they're in. Geralt and Danyll parry the woman's quick hits and blows as much as they can, and Geralt manages to wound the woman back. Danyll, in her opinion, just wants the fight to end.

Geralt holds the woman on her stopping point and grabs her sword, throwing it to the ground. However, Geralt keeps the tip of his sword against the woman's neck. _Silence_. Danyll's about to pull out Rose and stab her in the side when the woman pulls out her own, wanting to take a blow at Geralt but he grabs her wrist and forces her own grip to stab her in the neck. Slowly, the woman descends into Geralt's arm.

" _The girl in the woods will be with you always_ ," The woman's ending breath, whispers. " _She is your destiny_ ,"

Geralt places the woman down on the ground and stands. Danyll sheathes her sword. "Geralt, what on the realm... who is she? What have you done to have such a number of people on your throat?" She asks, utterly confused by this whole fight. Geralt looks at the woman like he's always seen monsters — God's abomination.

After a while, the townspeople begin to gather around the bodies of the bandits and an old man approaches the woman's corpse. He calls for the little girl, _Marilka_ , to grab him a cart so he can bring the woman's body back to his laboratory for experimentation. Geralt grits his teeth and carries his sword next to the old man's neck.

"If you touch a _single_ hair on her head..." Geralt warns. "Yours will be on the ground next,"

"Have you gone mad?" The old man asks. "Her mutation, it influences people. That's how she got these men to follow her. We _need_ to take it," The old man stops, smiling. "She got to you too, didn't she?" He asks. Danyll blinks, stepping away from Geralt and holds her own sword against Geralt's neck.

"Do not... touch her,"

"Witchers," The old man smirks. "You butchered bodies in the streets of Blaviken,"

" _You're beasts!_ "

" _You endangered the girl!_ "

Everyone murmurs insults and mockeries at Danyll's and Geralt's way and Geralt can be seen as angered by this unjustice. "You took the law in your own hands," Everyone's already got their fires and weapons out, and the old man walks closer to Geralt. " _You made a choice_ ," Geralt puts down his sword. "And you'll never if it was the right one," With the words influenced by the old man, the angry mob begins to pick up rocks and throw at their direction.

Geralt stands and looks at Danyll. 


	5. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢

* * *

They've been exiled by a sorcerer of Blaviken. The two witchers, Geralt and Danyll, ride on their esteemed horses, Roach and Grand. Together, they have their separate cloaks on and hoods above their heads so that anyone who they pass by won't be frightened by their sight. They journey through fields and forests while attempting to find a place somewhere more tranquil and relaxing for them to wind down from such a battle. Danyll looks at Geralt once in a while, humming.

Geralt sighs, tired of the pair of ruby eyes on him for every minute. "What?" He asks.

"What were you doing in Blaviken?" Danyll asks, tightening her gloved fingers on the reins of her horse. "Who was that woman you killed? The little girl you saved? The old man that exiled us from Blaviken? I have too many questions for you that I know you are going to be irked by, but please... explain. I don't want to believe that I killed men for the wrong reason..."

Geralt slows Roach's pace.   
What if he did the wrong thing? Danyll shouldn't have come along to fight with him, but why didn't he force her out of it and handle things on his own? With these questions in mind, Geralt grunts audibly and sharply looks at Danyll, who innocently looks back at him with wondering eyes. How can he stay mad at her? She didn't know the situation at that point in time and probably thought that he couldn't handle the fight on his own. Truthfully, he could, but having her by his side seemed... _different_.

"I was in the swamps before Blaviken, killing a _kikimore_ because the alderman of Blaviken had a bounty on it," Geralt starts, picking up the pace of his horse. "There, when I went to meet the alderman, the brown-haired woman I..." He exhales, then clearing his throat. "Killed, was named Renfri. She's — _was_ — the princess of _Creyden_. As Stregobor said, she had the ability to influence people because she's the child of the black sun. It's why Stregobor wanted her blood and flesh — to experiment on her,"

"I take it that Stregobor was the man that exiled us?" Danyll asks, raising an eyebrow. Geralt nods.

"What about you? What brought you to Blaviken?" Geralt asks.

Danyll hums. "I was in the village before Blaviken, and... I wanted to make camp there since I had been travelling for a day or two and Grand and I grew tired from it. However, the barmaid in the tavern of the village told me that a witcher had come to drink there before heading off to Blaviken for a quest written by an alderman. She began to describe the witcher and once she told me the name, I raced off to Blaviken," Danyll says, nodding. "I stopped by the swamp and saw a _kikimore_ blood trail and a corpse of a deer. I knew it had a connection with you and, using my senses, I followed your _onion_ smell," She chuckles; Geralt rolls his eyes. "Then, your scent lead me to Blaviken. You were in the midst of a heating argument and that's when I knew — well, my instinct — that I had to step in."

"I could've handled them on my own," Geralt hums.

"I know," Danyll says. "But if I didn't know you, I would've called it a murder out of insanity to those bandits. I trust you and I followed your way." Danyll nods, looking further down the trail. There is a stable on one hill that's connected to another using a bridge, and on that hill has a tavern. "Shall we wind down for a moment here? It's Posada, isn't it?" She asks Geralt, who simply hums.

Their horses strut towards the stable and they descend from their saddles. Danyll and Geralt walk up the bridge carefully, despite it being sturdy, and end up at the doors of the tavern. Danyll pushes the door open with her shoulder. They take recognition of the tavern before walking into the main area, picking a solitary place in the corner and Danyll orders two drinks: one for her and one for Geralt. The barmaid squints her eyes and ignores the fact that they're carrying weapons and their hairs are the same but their eyes. Their eyes are too different for her to comprehend if they're the same people or not.

The barmaid places two cups of ale onto the table and they accept it gratefully. In the corner of the room, which Danyll hadn't noticed, is a bard that's been singing tales about monsters that lurk through the realm. The brown-haired bard is chirpy and bubbly, and he continues to sing without anyone's attention. Finally, he stops. Then, he strums. " _You think you're safe_ ," He begins. Somehow, this is the beginning of Danyll's irritation towards him. " _Without a care. But here in Posada, you'd be wise to beware_ ,"

"Kill me now," Danyll grunts, drinking her drink.

" _The pike with the spike_ ," He stands up from his seat to interact with his crowd, who are too busy to listen to his ridiculous songs. " _That lurks in your drawers or the flying drake that will fill you with horror_ ," He strums the guitar heavily. " _Need old Nan the Hag to stir up a potion, so that your lady may get an abortion_ -" His so-called crowd detest the song he sings, throwing food at him and he cowers back to his table. "Oh, oi! Stop! Fuck off!" He shouts, using his lute to protect him from the throws. "I'm _so_ glad that I could bring you all together like this,"

Danyll can see the bard beginning to stuff the food that had been thrown at him, into his pants. Ridiculous, yes. " _Fuck_ ," Danyll cusses upon making eye contact with the bard, who steals a drink from the barmaid and approaches them.

"I love the way you two just... sit in the corner and brood," The bard introduces himself, leaning against a wooden post.

"I'm here to drink alone," Geralt says.

"Good. Yeah, good," The bard nods. "No one else hesitated on the quality of my performance, except..." He stands across Danyll and Geralt, smiling and sipping his drink. He thinks that Danyll is interested in him and the thought of crushing his small heart quenches her thirst of humiliating this ridiculous bard. "For you two. Come on; you don't want to keep a man with... bread in his pants waiting,"

" _Pathetic_ ," Danyll scoffs, drinking her ale.

"You must have _some_ review for me. Three words or less," The bard excitedly takes a seat across them, smiling.

"They don't exist," Geralt replies.

" _What_ don't exist?" The bard asks.

"The creatures in your song," Danyll replies then, attempting to relax from her urge to hit the bard with his own lute.

"And how would you two know?" He raises an eyebrow, but he smiles. "Oh, _fun_. White hair... big, old loner and a silver-haired princess; two-" He looks to the side. " _Four_ very, very scary-looking swords," Geralt and Danyll understand their exit and they both stand, each putting a ducat for the service. "I know who you are," They make haste for the door. "You're _witchers_ , Geralt of Rivia and Danyll of Ozryn!" The inn goes silent. "Called it!"

As they are heading out of the inn, a voice chimes behind them. "A job I've got for ya. I beg you," Danyll and Geralt turn around, looking at a scrawny man with brown, curly hair. Danyll hums, looking at him up and down. "A devil — he's been stealing all our grain. In advance, I'll pay you. A hundred ducat,"

"One fifty," Geralt negotiates.

The scrawny man pushes his hand under his vest, pulling out a bag of, what seems to be, ducats. "I've no doubt you'll come through. You take no prisoners, so I hear,"

Geralt looks at Danyll with a look of disinterest. 


	6. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔯

* * *

Danyll walks off the bridge and turns around to Geralt, who looks at her with a blank expression. "You stay here, I want to ask the locals where do they plant their grains," She says. Geralt nods, walking over to Roach and feeds it hay. Danyll turns around and walks over to the village, where people are friendly to each other and helping one another with tasks that one can't do alone.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," Danyll greets an old lady with a forced smile, who smiles back, sweetly, at Danyll. "I am... an exterminator. I've been hearing that there's something wrong with the grains you've taken care of?"

"Aye," She says, nodding. "It seems that the Devil has been stealing from us. My children have been spooked by the sight of a two-horned creature that's been takin' our grains. _Rightfully_ ours and he thinks that he can just simply up and take them?" The old woman scoffs, shaking her head. "Well, if you're some sort of religious exterminator, do kill the Devil. I'm not one for religion, but I've been hearing scary things about this Devil creature. Here," The woman produces a bag of ducats and holds it out to Danyll. "Kill it if you must. This is payment for it,"

Danyll takes it without a second thought. "Where can I find the grain? I apologise, I am new to Posada, after all,"

The old woman chuckles. "It's a'ight. We receive our fair share of new people around here. Like that bard over at the tavern," She smiles. "He came along to the village to ask about what kind of creatures we've seen. I went to the tavern that night to listen to his ballad and oh my, he has a beautiful voice," She says, which something that Danyll can disagree on. "Now, the grains are raised over there," The old woman points to the hills. "There, once you've reached the peak of it, you'll be able to see the grains,"

Danyll nods, walking off to the stable and finds Geralt stroking Roach's face. They unwind the reins of their horses from the posts and begin to journey up the hill. In Danyll's opinion, the view from the hill is quite breathtaking. The sun is still up and she can see the village from where they are; small and getting smaller with more steps taken by Danyll and Geralt up the hill. Knowing Geralt, he prefers silence over talking about nonsense, and Danyll lives up to that kind of mentality, unlike their other witcher brothers who talks and talks, drinks and drinks, and shit and shit like nothing else matters.

"You don't need to follow me," Geralt breaks the silence.

"Who says I'm following you?" Danyll scoffs. "You're following _me_ ,"

"I don't follow anyone," Geralt says.

"Neither do I,"

Geralt looks at Danyll, who presents a small, mockery smile yet she doesn't take notice of Geralt's glare at her. How long have they been friends? He asks himself, looking forward at the direction of the grains. The first time they met, Geralt had gone through the Trial of Grasses. She looked at him weirdly — he had developed white hair and amber, cat-like eyes, and somewhere inside of him, he knew that it was unfair for Danyll to go through such agony just to be a witcher. Though he couldn't have questioned Vesemir's thoughts as if he knew that it would be the best for Danyll, then there's nothing he would want to interrupt.

A pair of feet shuffling about behind them interrupts Geralt's line of thoughts. Danyll looks behind and cusses beneath earshot, but Geralt can hear with his heightened senses. It's the bard, and Geralt, too, wants him to go away. He's never liked bards before — they're annoying and their singings are never that good for a par.

"Ah, need a hand? I've got two," The bard says. "One for each of the, uh, Devil's horns,"

"Go away," Danyll and Geralt shoo at the same time.

"I won't be but a silent back-up," The bard smiles. "Look, I heard your note and, yes, you're right, _maybe_ real adventures would make better stories and you two smell _chock_ -full of them. Amongst... _other_ things; I mean, what _is_ that? Is that onion?" He shudders. "It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, you two smell of death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreaks!"

"Can't you just piss off?" Danyll sighs, hoping that the bard heard that wish. Sadly, he didn't.

"It's onion," Geralt says.

"Right. Yeah, yeah," The bard nods. "Oh, I could be your barker! Spreading the tales of Geralt of Rivia and Danyll of Ozryn, the _butchers of Blaviken_!"

With his words said, Danyll and Geralt stop their journey for a moment. Both witchers look at the bard, annoyed. Geralt calls for the bard to come closer and when he does, Geralt takes a fist to his gut, making the bard collapse in pain. Geralt continues the walk and Danyll steps over to the bard, kicking him in the side to let him fall. Then, she follows Geralt up the hill, while the bard tries his best to catch with them with his severely damaged gut. Geralt climbs onto Roach and same goes to Danyll with Grand.

"Reading between the lines and the gut punches, chum, I'd say you have got a bit of a... an image problem," Says the bard, irking Danyll more with his voice. "Were I to join you on this... _feat_ to defeat the Devil of Posada, I could relieve you of that title. All the North would be too busy singing the tales of Geralt of Rivia, the... the White Wolf or-or something!... and Danyll of Ozryn, the _Silver Princess_ ,"

Danyll is about to pull out her sword so she can injure the bard when Geralt stops him. "Butcher is right," Geralt replies.

"Mind if I hop up? I'm not wearing the right footwear," The bard requests, about to touch Roach when Geralt growls at him. Both Geralt and Danyll descend their horses and tie their reins to a strong tree so that they wouldn't flee while they hike their way up ahead on a narrow path. "You know, the elves called this _Dol Blathanna_ before bequeathing it to the humans and retreating into their golden palaces in the mountains," He nods. "There I go again, just... delivering exposition," Geralt and Danyll begin to walk up the narrow path with their swords on their back. "Geralt? Danyll?"

Geralt and Danyll make their way through the narrow path, cautious about their surrounding. "Geralt? Danyll? W-Where are you going?" They can hear the bard from behind. "Geralt, Danyll, don't leave me!" He croaks, catching up to them. "Hello? What are we looking for again?" He asks.

"Blessed silence," Says Geralt.

"Yeah, I don't really go in for that," — ' _That explains your entire existence, bard_ ,' Thinks Danyll, clenching her fists — "Have you ever hunted a Devil before, Geralt? What about you, Danyll?"

"Devils don't exist," Geralt replies.

"Right," The bard sighs. "Obviously. Then, uh... then what are we doing?"

"Sometimes there's monsters, sometimes there's money," Geralt explains his part of hunting. It has been a long time since Geralt has done it for the protection of people, but ever since he perceived the idea of witchers' _real_ reputation in the realm, it's been hard for him to be a loyal hunter of monsters for these people. "Rarely both. That's the life,"

With their quick reflexes, they dodge a projectile that ricochets Geralt's forehead. The bard remains unknown of the situation, looking at the surroundings for anything that might've sent the projectile towards them. "Act Two begins?!" The bard cries happily. Danyll tries her best to pull him down while Geralt examines the tiny object. "What _was_ that? Looks like a tiny cannonball from a..." He looks wary and pale. "Oh my gosh..." He steps away from the bushes. "Geralt, Danyll... it _is_ a Devil. Oh... I have to see this magical, this _mythical_ -"

It's as if the Divine had heard Danyll's prayers, a projectile hits the bard's forehead, sending him down to the ground. Geralt and Danyll sigh. Geralt pushes the bushes aside while Danyll follows, examining the area they're looking at for anything dangerous. Is the _Devil_ really real? As they're in quiet senses, something, with a horned head and hooves for feet, runs at them.

"Leave me be!" He yells, headbutting them in the chest and sends them both flying across the air. Both get onto their feet pretty quick, wanting to get all this show over with.

"You talk," Geralt says, a sarcastic face of surprise. The creature yells, trying to headbutt both witchers once more but Geralt grabs his horn and swings him across the area. He pins the creature down to the ground while Danyll has her sword out, prepared to kill it.

"Of course I talk!" The creature yells.

"What happened to you?" Geralt scoffs. "Your mother fuck a goat?" Danyll rolls her eyes, ready to have either a swordfight or hand-to-hand combat with the creature in any case that it's stronger than Geralt.

"I am Torque the Sylvan!" The creature yells. "A rare and intelligent creature!"

"You're a dick," Geralt replies. "With balls," _Sarcastically_.

"Balls _I_ got from humans, who left our food filled with iron meant to poison me!" Torque cries, tearing out Geralt's white hair. "Did _your_ mother fuck a snowman?!"

Those are the words heard by Danyll before reality succumbs to darkness and a striking pain against the back of her head. She falls behind, silently, into the arms of someone with pointy ears. 


	7. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔦𝔳𝔢

* * *

Stirring awake from a reminiscent, false memory of how she had 'left' her village, Danyll comprehends her silver hair in her face as she looks up. The strands of her hair parts way and she can see that she's in some sort of cave that's hiding from the sunlight and has plants growing like vines. She can't move her hands but she can feel the touch of others'. She looks to her right, taking notice of the ever-so wonderful head of white hair belonging to Geralt and to her left is the annoying bard, which she still needn't know his name of.

"I'll repeat what I've said," The bard says, facing Danyll. "This is the part where we escape,"

"This is the part where they kill us!" Geralt growls, struggling through the bind.

"Who's _they_?" The bard asks, concerned instantly.

Danyll blinks her blurry vision to see a feminine figure to approach them with her foot directly in her direction. Danyll swings to the right, letting the kick go straight into the bard's head, which Danyll doesn't mind if he's the one that gets hurt rather than her. " _Beast!_ " The female elf says in the Elder language.

"Elves...!" Geralt warns, getting kicked in the face by the same elf.

"Oi, that's my lute!" The bard faces another elf, who's playing the bard's precious lute. "Give that back! Quick, Geralt, Danyll, do your-your witchering-"

"Shut up!" Danyll and Geralt advise the bard, while Geralt gets kicked in in the chest by the female elf.

" _No_ ," The female elf speaks further in the Elder language. " _You shut up!_ "

"My Elder speech is rough; I only got a part of that," The bard says.

"Humans, shut _up_ ," The female elf says in the bard's common tongue.

" _Ah, got it, thanks so much_ ," The bard speaks in Elder sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Do you wanna die right now?" The elf asks.

"As opposed to _later_?!" Danyll scoffs, struggling in the bind she is in with the bard and Geralt. The female elf kicks the bard in the chest, and at the same time, the male elf strums the lute off-key. "Leave off! He's just a bard!" Danyll shouts at the aggressive elf. She gets punched in the face by the elf and Danyll can feel instant pain her lower jaw.

"You don't deserve the air you breathe!" The elf shouts, punching Danyll once more. "Everything you touch, you destroy!" She gets slapped by the back of the elf's backhand and gets kneed in pain; Danyll groans in pain, feeling blood pouring down out of her nose and oozing out of the cut off of her lips.

The bard shakily breathes. "You _hide_ in your golden palaces; you beat a _bound_ man, too scared to even look him in the eye!"

"Do you like my palace?" The elf asks, sarcastically, kneeling in front of Danyll and touches her chin, while Danyll pulls away, repulsed. "Hmm? Does it live up to the tales you humans tell?" Danyll, who's irritated by her, to even _be_ here, butts her forehead into the elf's face and she's quick to coughing blood that's streaming down her nose.

Danyll can hear the bard's laughter beside her. "Yeah, take that, pointy!" He says to the wheezing and coughing elf. His pride turns into worry. "Wait, what - what's wrong with her?"

"She's _sick_ ," Geralt says while shadowy creatures enter the cave, and by the pointy ears like the aggressive elf, he is an elf too.

"Oh, and who is _this_?" Asks the bard, in disbelief.

"He's Filavandrel, King of Elves," Torque responds, going to the side of the injured elf.

"Not a king," Filavandrel corrects him. "Not by choice,"

"You were stealing for them," Geralt concludes about Torque's relevance in the elves' plan in the high mountains.

"I _felt_ for them; they were forced out of _Dol Blathanna_ ," Torque replies.

"Forced out—? No, they chose—,"

"Do you know _anyone_ that would choose to leave their home?" Filavandrel asks, looking at the bard for his stupid question. "To starve? To have a Sylvan steal for them?" He shakes his head and looks at the injured elf.

"Toruviel, no one was supposed to get hurt," Torque says, in great disappointment.

"What's three humans in the ground when _countless_ elves have died?" Toruviel says, scoffing.

" _One_ human," Danyll and Geralt correct her. "And you can let him go," Geralt continues.

"Then Posada will learn that we've been stealing," Filavandrel says, standing up to walk to them. "The humans will attack. Many will die... on _both_ sides," His jaw clenches in the peripheral vision of Danyll as Filavandreal approaches Geralt.

"The _lesser evil_ ," Geralt says. "No matter what you choose, you'll come out bloody and hating yourself. _Trust me_ ,"

"That's the problem," Filavandrel smiles, kneeling in front of Geralt. "I can't. This is necessary,"

"I understand," Geralt begins. "As long as _you_ understand that it won't be long before you follow me in death,"

"Yes," Filvandre sighs, in an understanding fashion. "Because they pushed us from viable soil. Even _chaos_ is polluted. Synthetically enhanced so humans can make magic,"

Danyll sighs. "Chaos is the same as it's always been," She chimes in. "Humans, they've just adapted better,"

"You say adapt," Filavandrel hums. "And I say destroy,"

"You are choosing to _starve_ ," Geralt says. "You're cutting off your ear to spite your face,"

"You think this is about pride?!" Filavandrel cries in anger. "My Elders worked with humans and got robbed of all they had... and when they fought back, they were _slaughtered_. 'The Great Cleansing', humans call it. I called it digging a mass grave for everyone I loved, and now the humans proudly watch these very fields grow; our _babies_ fertiliser for their grain! I don't wish to bury anyone else. I was once Filavandrel of the Silver Towers... now I'm Filavandrel of the Edge of the World,"

Danyll looks down, somehow feeling... _something_ about his pain and suffering yet she can't note what that feeling is.

"If I bring my people down from these mountains, it would mean bowing to human sovereignty," Filavandrel says. "They'll make _slaves_ of us. Pariahs of half-blood children,"

"Then go somewhere else," Advises Geralt. "Rebuild. Get strong again. Show the humans that you are more than what they fear you to be,"

"Like you, witcher?"

"I have learned to live with them," Geralt says. "So that _I_ may live,"

Toruviel quickly gets onto her feet. "Please, my king. There are others. A new generation. Evelien who _wish_ to fight! Let us take back what's ours. Starting _now_ ,"

Filavandrel pulls out a dagger.  
"Wait!" Torque interrupts.

"The witchers could've killed me," Torque says. "But they _didn't_. They're different; like us!" Torque gets shoved aside while Filavandrel makes up his mind on whether to kill them or not.

"If you must kill me," Geralt begins, looking at Filavandrel straight in the eyes. "I am ready but, the Sylvan's right. Don't call us human," Geralt growls.

Filavandrel raises the dagger and forces it down. Danyll expects for him to have stabbed Geralt in the head, but instead, she feels freedom through her wrists. She looks up at Filavandrel, who breathes rapidly. Toruviel looks ashamed for having a cowardly king, but in Danyll's opinion, he has saved lives with no dark blood in his hands. Geralt helps Danyll and the bard up onto their feet, gathering their things.

"Toruviel, give the bard a new lute," Filavandrel says, not looking at the three people.

"But, your majesty-"

" _Now_ ," Filavandrel says.

Toruviel growls at the sight of them, leaving the cave. Danyll walks out first, eyes adapting to the sunlight that shines brightly on her face. She can smile, but why isn't she? Toruviel returns with a brand new lute for the bard and they silently make their way down the path, bowing their heads down from the sight of the rest of the elves that live with Filavandrel.

They finally arrive at the path where Danyll and Geralt tie their horses' reins on a sturdy tree. "Credit where credit is due," The bard says as the witchers ride onto their horses' saddles. "That whole reverse-psychology thing you did on them was brilliant, by the way," He continues, urging for Danyll to wish that he's dead. " _Kill me, I'm ready_ ," He imitates Geralt. Geralt looks at the bard with disbelief. " _That's_ the conclusion. They just let us go, and you give Nettly's coin to the elves."

"Filavandrel's lute not gift enough for you?" Danyll scoffs.

"Yeah, she is a bit sexy, isn't she?" The bard smiles. "I do have respect for Filavandrel. He survived the Great Cleansing once. Who knows? Maybe he can do it again... Be reborn. _Will the elf king heed_ ," He starts to sing and Danyll's ready to draw out her sword when Geralt says a stern no. " _What the witcher entreats? Is history a wheel, doomed to repeat?_ " He stops for a moment. "No, that's... that's shit,"

"This is where we part ways, bard," Geralt stops, meaning Danyll stops too. "For good,"

"I promised to change the public's tune about you," The bard snorts. "At least allow me to try," He pulls out his lute and strums. " _When a humble bard, graced a ride along with Geralt of Rivia, along came this... song. From when the White Wolf fought, a silver-tongued Devil, his army of Elves at his hooves did they travel_ ," He keeps strumming the lute, figuring out the lyrics inside of his head. Danyll hums, finding it a nice song to listen to. " _They came after me, with masterful deceit, broke down my lute and they kicked in my teeth! While the Devil's horns, minced our tender meat and so cried the witcher, he can't be bleat_ -"

"That's not how it happened," Geralt says, stopping Roach and Danyll in the spot. "Where's your newfound respect?"

"Respect doesn't make history," The bard says before continuing to play. Danyll looks at Geralt, who is thoughtfully thinking. " _Toss a coin to your witcher, O Valley of Plenty, O Valley of Plenty_ ," 


	8. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔵

* * *

It has been a month or two since the encounter with King Filavandrel of the Edge of the World. They bid farewells to the bard but the witchers, Danyll and Geralt, somehow can't say goodbye to each other. Once they were down at Posada and the bard returned to the tavern, they looked at each other. Without a word exchanged, the continued their path to wherever destiny pulled them.

Geralt admitted to himself that he's missed the ruby-red eyes Danyll possesses. He's too accustomed to seeing them every day when they were in _Kaer Morhen_. He can remember the times where they'd train together because Vesemir believed that Danyll clung onto Geralt better than the other witchers. Frankly, he was mean to Danyll for the first time they met and the times they crossed paths, but when the rest of the witchers-in-training had treated her badly because of her sex, he decided it wasn't the right thing to do to pick on her. He didn't dislike her because she was a girl; it was because she was too interested and asked too many questions.

' _Is that why you stopped asking questions?_ ' Geralt asks himself, although the question's mainly for Danyll.

Geralt stops.   
"What is it?" Danyll asks, and she catches the hearing too. "Werewolves,"

Both witchers descend their horses and pull out their silver swords, knowing that it would work against the creatures. They slowly crouch and scrunch their footsteps on the grass, furthering into the forest where they can clearly hear the gnarls and growls of a werewolf, but this time, it's collected. Danyll fishes for something in her pocket and she tosses the potion vial at Geralt, who doesn't look when he grabs it. They pop open the cork and drown their swords with the potion.

Danyll uses her witcher senses to indicate how many werewolves there are nearby. "There are... four," She hears the growls grow louder. She stands and throws her sword at one werewolf, which dodges the attack. "Damn it!" She kicks herself sideways on a tree and crouches on a tree branch. "I have to get my sword," She tells Geralt, who nods and runs in to swing his sword at the werewolf. Danyll hangs down on the branch, avoiding the werewolves' attempt to scratch her by swinging herself.

By swinging, she jumps for another branch and yelps when she almost lost her hold on the branch. Her body's asymmetrically slanting, and the werewolves see her as food. She looks up, seeing that her fingers are gathering splinters the more she presses her fingers and palm into the branch and, with all strength in her arm, she pulls herself up and wraps her legs around the branch, creating her world upside-down. Geralt throws her sword into her hand and once the sword returns to its master, Danyll drops down and punctures the tip of her sword into the werewolf's neck, causing it to crazily shout in fear.

Danyll wraps her legs around the injured werewolf's neck and pulls out Rose, stabbing it in the eye multiple times while the creature tries to peel her off of it. Danyll stabs Rose on the side and drags it across the throat, jumping off the creature as it bleeds out, squirting everywhere. A werewolf grabs Danyll from the back, scratching her armour but the nails aren't sharp enough to go through the leather armour. Danyll scoffs, grabbing her sword and parries the nails, stabbing the creature from below the head using Rose, and the creature gets thrown to the side.

Geralt finishes with his own fair share of creatures, and they look around.   
"Are you okay?" He asks, checking her hands. "You shouldn't have climbed the tree like a child," He shakes his head, pulling out the splinters that aren't a bother to her. Then, he turns her around and checks her armour. "We need to go to the next town to get you a new armour. It's damaged. You should really take care of yourself. What would you have done if I weren't here?" Geralt shakes his head.

"Kill the creatures," Danyll rolls her eyes, getting onto her saddle and waits for Geralt. "You can't be so over-protective of me. We're not kids."

"You act like one," Geralt says.

"And you don't," Danyll hums.

Grand struts on the dirt path towards a small village coated in soft white. Slowly they approach the village that is guarded by guards, and they do nothing but nod at the recognition of their service to the realm. Geralt has caught up to her and Grand, and he points at an inn that's lit up properly. She nods and they strut to the stables, allowing their trusted companions to rest for the night. They walk into the tavern below the inn, and they walk to a table in the corner. Danyll puts out two fingers to the barmaid, who nods.

The barmaid appears with two cups of ale and sets it down for the witchers. "Do you ever need to be so solemn, Geralt?" Asks Danyll, sipping her ale.

"There's nothing more cheerful than killing monsters," Geralt responds, still solemn despite sounding happy in that statement. "How many creatures have you encountered in the past few years?"

Danyll shrugs, gulping a load of the ale. "A Hell too many, I suppose. Not too long ago, I proved a group of farmers that a water hag and drowners weren't to be messed with," She scoffs, calling for the barmaid for a pitcher of ale. "They thought it was easy to take them down but no, they were unequipped and a head full of dreams and doubtful pride,"

"That's humans to you," Geralt shakes his head, sipping the ale. "Have you encountered other witchers?"

"You should've seen their faces when they found that the Danyll they grew up with turned out to be a _girl_ ," Danyll chuckles, sipping her ale. "Everyone saw me as a boy due to my late growth of breasts but none of them bothered to look me in the face and say that I'm handsome, at least," Danyll hums, circling the rim of the cup. "Now, men expect to bed me, unless they know that I'm a witcher,"

Geralt looks at Danyll with a certain stare; something about it seems _entrancing_. Danyll pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear, looking at the ale in her cu0. She can see the reflection belonging to her, right now; silver hair, ruby-coloured eyes. No one sees her beautiful, not even herself. The trials to become a witcher didn't teach her how to charm her way with her beauty -- due to the fact that every surviving witchers-to-be were and are boys. She _had_ to act like one.

She only utilised her so-called beauty when she was released by Vesemir, who told her that even her beauty can kill someone one day and that day hasn't come yet. Danyll promises herself that her beauty can only be used for temporary charm despite that it's not magical; her words can be smooth like honey, but it can be venomous when the men or women are entranced into it.

After an hour or so of silence between the two witchers, Danyll approaches the innkeeper, who is keeping tabs inna book behind his counter. He looks up at Danyll with a smile.

"What can I express my pleasure to welcome you, young lady?" He asks.

"A room, please," Danyll presents coins for him. "Double bed for me and my partner," She nods. The innkeeper hums, looking at her -- acknowledging her silver hair, ruby-coloured eyes, and he turns around to the back of the room before coming out with a key. "Thank you very much, kind sir,"

Geralt follows Danyll to the vacant room that they're about to occupy. Danyll inserts the key and turns the lock around and the door is now unlocked. They enter into a cold, dark room, and they settle down their weapons on the side before Geralr conjures fire in the pit. Danyll pulls out of her armour and leaves herself in a linen shirt that's too large for her fitting. She sits on the chair, joined by Geralt.

As they enjoy the warmth emitting from the fire, Danyll leans her head on his shoulder. He's not repulsed from that and he lifts her head, confusing her for a moment before he cups her cheeks and brings out her lips for his. They kiss passionately, stretching their bodies on the chair.

"I'm sorry," Geralt pulls away, blinking his eyes.

"Don't be sorry, you idiot," 


	9. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫

* * *

She didn't dream. Ever since Vesemir experimented mutagens on her, it stripped off the capabilities of dreaming because a majority of the time, when she goes to sleep, she'll have bad ones. Nightmares beyond nightmares where she can only feel pain and have a bad night of sleep. However, Danyll scrunches the corner of her flat, idle pillow and groans, sitting up and rubs her eyes. She's forgotten yesterday's happenings, but all she can remember is bedding with someone. The pieces of last night begin to stitch — moaning, teasing and growling in seduction. Danyll blinks her blurry eyes, turning aside to face the figure she had gone to bed and slept with. 

_Geralt of Rivia_.

Danyll can't bring herself to make a despairing sound or such; only her reaction at the sight of Geralt confuses her entire being. She traces his cheek that has a scar that's got a scar beyond healing anymore and she runs his white hair behind his ear.

She slowly pushes herself out of bed and dresses up in her usual clothing before grabbing her scabbard of weapons, sheathing Rose in her thigh scabbard. Danyll opens the door slowly, looking behind to see what she's about to leave temporarily before shutting the door and walking down the stairs of the inn and into the tavern, where she can instantly smell succulent meat, basted in honey and rosemary paired with the nicest ale this tavern can provide.

Danyll produces coins for the barmaid to serve her breakfast and when she does, Danyll's stomach growls. The slices of pork meat that's soaked the honey for hours appear juicy than ever and, again, she's been served with ale. She tears apart the meat and folds it between pinched bread and downs it in one gulp, reminding herself of how hungry like the wolf she is.

"You..." Someone speaks in a whisper beside her. She didn't pay much attention as she's too engulfed with the food. "You're a _witcher_ , aren't you?"

"How so?" Danyll asks sarcastically, drinking the ale so it can be a lubricant for the food stuck in her throat. "Is it because of my posture? How rude,"

The man merely blinks his eyes. "N-No," He shakes his head. "Your hair," He uses his bare fingers to push Danyll's silver hair behind her ear and she tilts her head to see him with annoyed anger; he smirks. "Your _eyes_ speak languages, dear witcher," She shoves his hand away and earns a hearty chuckle from him. "Feisty, my type," The man teases. "However, I didn't approach here to charm you with my looks or personality; I have a job for you,"

"Charming," Danyll snorts. "Fuck off,"

"Will this much," — he throws a bag full of coins onto the counter, which attracts Danyll's attention as she stops chewing and squints her eyes at the item — "Do, dear witcher?"

She sighs, hesitant to do so but grabs the bag and shoves it into her pocket. "What is it that concerns you the most?"

"There have been words around that a couple of bandits are planning to attack the villagers near the borders of the village," Says the man, looking around to ensure that their conversation is not to be heard. "They lure women into the forests and do unspeakable things to our ladies," He continues, drumming his fingers against the counter. "So, will you accept the job?"

"You've bloody given me your money and you ask _me_ that stupid question?" Danyll scoffs, drowning herself in ale before slamming the cup onto the counter and pushes away the plate. "I want you to tell all the villagers that they need to stay indoors," Says Danyll, sliding off the stool and dusting off her fingers. "Alarm the guards about the attack. At least while I'm doing it, the guards will know,"

"But, Danyll,"

" _Witcher_ ,"

"Witcher Danyll?"

Danyll grunts.

"The guards are not cooperating with us!" The man cries, following her pace as she walks towards the door out of the tavern. "We've told them about the bandits... but they refuse to believe that this village is in danger!"

"Well, that's guards for you," Danyll stands on the streets, listening to the bustling sounds of people being busy and minding their own business. Danyll hums. "As I said, tell the people to stay home and _not_ interact with what's going to happen and alarm the guards. It doesn't matter if they don't do anything — if they don't do anything about it and when their general finds out the shed blood are in their hands, they will be responsible,"

The man nods, running off to tell the others about Danyll's plan. Meanwhile, she approaches her horse at the stable, stroking its face while Grand favours the caress. "I'll be gone for a while okay?" She places her forehead against Grand's. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone," She sighs, pulling away and strokes down the bridge of its nose. "How can I? I've taken all the stupid with me,"

"I thought you're not one for talking to animals," Speaks a gruff voice, distracting Danyll from Grand. "What changed?"

"I've always talked to animals," Danyll rolls her eyes. "Then what would you call our conversation then?"

Geralt scoffs, going up to Danyll with his hand directing for her wrist. "Danyll... about yesterday," He whispers, eyelids lowering.

"I know, Geralt," Danyll nods. "Pretend like it never happened,"

Geralt looks taken aback, looking at Danyll with an expression that Danyll knows she regrets suggesting the idea. He inhales. "Good, we're on the same page then," He says, walking off to the tavern and leaving Danyll to pick up her shattered heart pieces. She can't help but think if she hadn't said that, would he have said something else?

Danyll inhales sharply, walking off from the stable and hear sharp cries surrounding the area of the borders of the village. Danyll puts aside her broken emotions, pulling out her steel sword as she meets, face-to-face, with a group of bandits in their leather armour and steel that are bound to crack in no time.

"Oi, witcher!" Cries the leader of the bandits. "You ought to know your place in places like these. This village is _mine_. So, you can take your super freaky nature out of here and leave us at peace!"

Danyll scoffs. "I've heard far better threats than yours. You don't scare me; you only scare yourself and shit your pants when you look in the mirror, don't you?" Danyll wields out her sword, swinging it and holds the handle with both her hand. "I may be what people call the Divine's abomination but I think they were talking about you too,"

"Have care of how you speak to our prince!" The leader's goon shouts, threatening Danyll with his crossbow.

"What's with witchers and royalty?" Danyll groans. "I don't care if he's a shitting prince or a toad that can't even hop itself into the pond — you don't deserve to be in this land. You don't protect him; they _fear_ you," Danyll says, bringing her sword up but the leader blocks, their faces close to each other. "You're a prince? Since when did chivalry end?"

"Bitch!" The prince pushes her off, whistling for his men to shoot at her or kill her, to say the least. "My father will have your head off!"

Danyll turns around when his goon shoots an arrow at her. "Please," Danyll scoffs, elbowing herself up. "Your father has a son for an abomination, who should he respect you?" She jumps onto her feet, grabbing a wrist of the goon when they attempt to punch her and she twists the goon around, punching it on the elbow, that breaking sound can be heard. The prince winces in pain for a second before shouting in anger at Danyll. "Aw, did I upset the little puppy?"

"I am not a puppy!" Shouts the prince, brandishing his sword at Danyll, which she bends behind. Once he notices that it didn't hurt her, Danyll kicks him in the crotch, hurting him ultimately. "You're a bitch! Janiel, get her!"

Danyll looks around at the direction of Janiel, which she didn't have the time to comprehend what is happening to him as someone grabs an arrow from his pocket and stabs it in his throat. Danyll blinks her eyes, seeing Geralt growling at Janiel. Janiel, pretending that he's not scared of Geralt, swings his sword at him but Geralt catches the wrist, pulling him up to his eye-level.

"He's not worth it," Danyll says, walking up to the hanging prince. "He's only here for show. You call yourself a bandit?" Danyll laughs, pulling out Rose and stabs him in the side. "Tell your father I send my regards,"


	10. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔢𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱

* * *

Danyll finds herself wide awake throughout the night, unable to catch a shut-eye after all the fighting with the bandits of the village. As she's facing Geralt's back, she can see that he's lifting his weight off the mattress. She quickly shuts her eyes to pretend that she's asleep, however, her eyelids are split by a few inches so she can see what Geralt's up to. She can see his hairy legs slip into his pants before wearing his upper clothing.

After a while, Geralt disappears from the room and Danyll takes the chance to sit up and rub her eyes. Now, she's alone in the room, unlike yesterday where it was Geralt who was left behind for a moment while Danyll does what does until he interrupted her work. Danyll climbs out of bed to wear her article of clothing and tightens the belt around her waist so that the shirt she's wearing won't go loose; prior to wearing her black, leather armour.

She equips her scabbard before exiting the room and down the stairs that lead to the tavern, where she meets Geralt's back as he's having a mug of the tavern's ale. Danyll stops at the very end of the stairs, staring at Geralt's marvellous white hair for a few minutes before approaching the counter, where the barmaid asks if she wants yesterday's food for compensation of her help to defeat the bandits.

"Just give me the largest mug of ale you can," Danyll says, sitting beside men who find themselves in a conundrum — to like or fear her. She scoffs, shaking her head. "Stare all you want, chivalrous men, but you're not getting any satisfaction from me _ever_ ," She says, disappointing them and they walk away from Danyll.

The barmaid smiles, handing her a pitcher paired with a really large mug. "They've been eyeing at you since yesterday's forenoon," She giggles. "Glad to know you're not entranced in their pathetic charm; they're the worst bedders ladies have seen in this town, and I'm one of them,"

"Good... to know?" Danyll scrunches her eyebrows, pouring herself a mug of ale, dunking it down into her system without feeling an inch closer to being drunk. She pours herself another one which goes for in once more until the pitcher comes close to being finished. "Refill!" Cries Danyll for the barmaid, who nods and goes to refill the pitcher.

As Danyll drowns herself with ale that she can never get drunk off of, rushing footsteps enter the inn and the tavern goes silent. Danyll doesn't bother to look as she's still downing her mugs of ale.

Everyone behind her looks at the little girl that ran into the tavern, obviously showing that she's _way_ too young to be mixing herself in this crowd. "I'm looking for a lady of Ozryn!" Cries the little girl; Danyll doesn't respond to her call, while everyone in the tavern murmurs about Danyll's presence. "Please, it's an emergency! Her dying friend is in need to see her!" The little girl cries and she notices the silver-haired girl with thick armour sitting by the bar. She goes up to Danyll, tugging her elbow. "A-Are you... lady of Ozryn...?"

Danyll looks to the side. "A child," Danyll examines. Petite and small, frail and fragile — _too_ fragile — to be a witcher. Yet, Danyll's not interested in adopting children to become witchers like her. "I don't have any friends," Danyll replies. She can hear Geralt's scoff with her heightened hearing and she rolls her eyes subtly.

"Please..." The little girl produces tears and wipes them, whispering. "She will kill my family if I don't return home with you..."

Danyll squints her eyes. A 'friend' that notes to be her's and threatens a young child her age to take matters of the Divine's work in her hands. Danyll nods to the little girl and she follows her out of the tavern, down the path that narrows between two houses and she's faced with a worn-out house. Danyll holds onto Rose cautiously, holding the little girl, who's beginning to sob, back.

"Stay outside," Advises Danyll to the little girl, who musters not words yet a nod. Danyll slowly pushes the door open and with her quick reflexes, she dodges an arrow from beside her head. Danyll's eyesight makes of the figure's remaining in the dark. She can see a cloaked figure, holding a bow and replacing an arrow into the centre. "Face me you coward!" Danyll cries, pulling out Rose and parries the shot arrow. All light enters the house and she sees that there are cowering parents holding onto their remaining children in the corner. Danyll growls. "Let them go!"

The cloaked figure chuckles and pulls down her hood. Danyll needn't gasp but she grits her teeth, tightening her grip around Rose tightly at the sight of who it is. Her emerald-colour eye can be seen while the other is hidden behind some sort of mask as if she doesn't want people to see what had happened behind the scene. However, Danyll knows clearly what had happened — she's the one that gave the cloaked figure the curse of blinding one eye.

"Hello, Danyll,"

" _Osenne_ ," Danyll growls like a guarding dog. "What are you doing here?"

"A mage's work is a secret to herself," Osenne hangs her bow around her body before spreading her palm, where everything about the house, the cowering family and the sad little girl, transforms into mist and is absorbed into Osenne's palm. "What are _you_ doing here? You disrupted my work by banning the bandits from this village!"

" _You_ called for the bandits?" Danyll scoffs. "I thought you were strong enough to destroy a village on your own, but apparently even your chaotic magic can't handle everything, can it?" Danyll can see the anger boiling in Osenne's eyes. She sheathes Rose into the scabbard. "Isn't that what Aretuza taught you? To control the 'chaos' or whatever bullshit you've learned to be the _worst_ mage in the realm,"

Osenne laughs. "You've always been funny, Dany,"

"Don't you _dare_ call me that," Danyll growls.

"Oh? Is your boyfriend the only one allowed, then?" Osenne blinks, smirking. "You've had your fair share of fun with him but we both know who you _truly_ love in this realm," Osenne walks up to Danyll, their heights different by one head. "I'm your forever love — your one, _truest_ love," She grabs Danyll's hand and places it against her cheek, spreading warmth to it. Osenne shuts her eyes and leans into the touch, smiling. "I've missed you,"

"I don't," Danyll snatches her hand. "Get the hell away from me. _You_ know why I ran away from you,"

"It was self-defence,"

"It _wasn't_. You've massacred a whole town because you're a crazy bitch! I saw that man who you stood with, you went behind my back and decided that he was better than me," Danyll pushes Osenne away from her. "Don't blink your innocence on me, you cunt; I would never — and _will_ never — take you back for the crimes you've done,"

"Oh? Look who's talking," Osenne smirks. " _Butcher of Blaviken_. What does that make you? You've killed innocents too. You're a hypocrite,"

Danyll spits into Osenne's face and shoves her off. "Get the fuck away from me, you insane bitch," She turns around and freezes.

 _Geralt_.


	11. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔢

* * *

She was cast out of their shared room. Danyll felt ashamed at Geralt's realisation of not sharing her previous secrets with him. Although, in fairness, he doesn't exactly share his own to her. Nonetheless, Geralt didn't want to listen to her side of the story — of how the mage had tricked her with the little girl and the family, and her being a friend who's sick. Geralt didn't want to hear _any_ of that — all that matters is he had given his love to her and, to his eyes, she's stumped on his slowly beating heart. ' _Is this what heartbreak feels like?_ ' Thought Geralt as he forced Danyll out of _their_ room — now, it's his.

Danyll stays in the bathtub filled with warm water and lavender poured to make her smell lovely. She stares at her reflection, where ruby eyes barely came off as ruby due to the dim lighting of the room. It seems brown, like chocolate. Her silver hair is dampened with water to the scalp and she grabs a cup full of water and drowns herself in such sweetly-smelling water. She grabs a cloth to scrub off the dirt that's trapped itself on the layer of her skin and she begins scrubbing.

After a while in the bath, she exits the water and drains it before grabbing her clothes and wears them prior to putting on her custom-made, leather armour. She slips into a pair of comfortable boots and grabs her scabbard of weapons, attaching one for thigh for rose and her back for her swords. Danyll takes a glance at the mirror of herself, frowning. ' _This is the girl that broke a man's heart_ ,' she thinks. She grabs out Rose and hesitantly traces along with her silver hair. ' _This is for Osenne_ ,' She chops off a chunk of her hair, throwing it into the sink. ' _This is for Geralt_ ,' She grabs the right side of her hair and chops it off. ' _This is for_ ** _me_** ,'

She leaves her room, locking it behind her and then she finds the innkeeper busting into Geralt's room. She scrunches her eyebrows, approaching him. "What do you think you're doing?" She asks, looking at the sight of Geralt's room; double-taking when she notices a prostitute's presence beside him. She grits her teeth and clenches her jaw, thinking, ' _I deserve that_ '. "Give the man some privacy,"

"He's a _Witcher_ ," The innkeeper growls. "Witchers don't get good service,"

"So am I, but how is it that I get _excellent_ service in this shit-hole?" Danyll growls, coming closer to the innkeeper. "Just because I have breasts and a cunt means I get mediocre service? He and I are _partners_ ,"

"I don't see you in bed with him," The innkeeper bravely says.

Danyll draws out Rose against his neck and the innkeeper's instinct kicks in to fear her. "Give this man some time to gather his belongings before he leaves or if I hear one complaint or a hair on his head fall into _your_ hands," She scoffs, the blade digging further into the man's skin. "I won't hesitate,"

The innkeeper quickly nods and disappears around the corner, muttering in fear. Danyll looks at Geralt with blue eyes, although he can't know since neither of them can comprehend simple human emotions. The girl beside him gets out of bed and shuts the door quickly, leaving Danyll to bite his dust — or _their_ dust. Danyll sighs, proceeding downstairs. There was nothing but emptiness in the tavern, aside from the barmaid's humble singing behind the bar while wiping glasses. The innkeeper's by his books again, counting the accounts and how many nights his guests will stay.

"You have yourself a nice haircut there," The barmaid smiles. "Where are you off to, witcher?" She asks, coolly.

"Somewhere far from here," Danyll replies, looking down and flattens her silver hair. "Can you point the direction to where monsters are present?"

"Temeria," Says the barmaid, nodding. "Words around say that there's a creature that takes people's pride down to their graves. Strikes during the dead of night dead of night.

"Point me to Temeria,"

Danyll can't make the trip with her horse as the trip involves an underground journey (or as the barmaid has told her). So, she leaves Grand at the stable of the inn, where the innkeeper promises to ensure the safety of her best friend. Danyll's breathing can be seen from the misty exhale. She walks towards the path that leads into the forest and, as she's about to enter, she's forced to turn around and she grabs the hand, but the hand forces it around Danyll's neck, locking her into the person's hold.

"Where are you off to?" She recognises it being Geralt's voice.

"It's none of your business," Danyll attempts to tug Geralt's arm off of her, but his grip is too strong for her. "This is where we part ways, Geralt. I'm off to do witcher works while you can do yours," She elbows him in the side, seeing an opportunity of him unfastening his arm around her neck and she squeezes her head down, drawing out Rose and pointing at Geralt. "You had to rub it into my face with the prostitute, huh?" Danyll scoffs, sheathing Rose.

"Are you jealous?" Geralt scoffs.

"Why should I?" Danyll rolls her eyes. "I don't have anything to be jealous about. You're just being an idiot about my mistakes in the past. I'm no human, but even I do mistakes," Danyll frowns. "You make mistakes too, Geralt. You're just too egotistic to admit that you and I _can_ be human sometimes,"

"What did Vesemir see in you?" He asks, squinting his eyes. "You're childish — fooling everyone with your so-called beauty and charms."

"Vesemir saw a _witcher_ in me," Danyll sighs. "He saw potential, regardless of how stubborn I was. I still am stubborn but I don't hear _you_ complain," She ruffles her silver-hair that's cut out of place and strands that aren't even. "The only thing that I've heard you complain so far is the fact that I _bedded_ a woman before you," Danyll starts walking, letting Geralt eat her dust this time. "Osenne means nothing if it means that I get to have a chance with you,"

"Danyll," Geralt calls her out and all she can do is stand rather than turn around. She somehow misses him calling her name rather sadly as if he needs her more than ever. "Who is Osenne?" He asks. "What does she want from you?" Danyll turns around, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion as she looks at Geralt. "If you're going to face Osenne, more, in the future, then you shouldn't do it alone," He says, walking up to her and nods.

"Why the sudden change of heart?"


	12. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔢𝔫

* * *

They make their trail around the snowy paths from the previous village to where Temeria has been pointed. They walk down the dirt path that finally leads to an underground tunnel, which the barmaid had told Danyll about. Before they're able to enter the tunnel stands a post with a paper and smudged with dark ink and perfect calligraphy. ' **TEMERIA: REALM OF MONSTERS AND COWARDLY KINGS** ' it says, and Danyll and Geralt look at each other in curiosity. Of course, they've come across a lot of kingdoms in their days, but how is it this one is very frank about their thoughts on their king?

Without saying a word to discuss the forewarning, they make way down the slope and into the tunnel, where it's lit with torches for the night to be alive and warm. Danyll examines heavily off the walls and path. As soon as they step further into the tunnel, the snow that's drifted onto the floor melts from the heat of the fire (and she only notices now that she's been cold for a while). Meanwhile, the walls are cemented bricks that must've taken time to make and build, which she gives kudos to those who built the tunnel that is for mining (seeing the pickaxe, boxes of coals and uncut gems).

Their footsteps begin to quieten itself as they further their journey into the mining tunnel, where they sense a group of men with severe anger towards something or someone. Danyll raises an eyebrow, seeing someone being surrounded by men of miners. "Years of attacks by this creature, and the king does _nothing_ ," A messiah of the men says. "We must force his hand; lay down our picks," He looks at his men, nodding. "And refuse to work," All of the attendees cheer to the idea. Geralt leans against a wall while Danyll hops a little onto a box, ensuring that she's quiet as a mouse while doing so.

A dwarf squeezes through the crowd. "A half-measure ain't gonna do!" He starts; all the men look at him, so do Danyll. His face is caked in dirt, particularly from mining all day and must've not noticed it; his black bear falls to his chest, and under his hat is nothing but balding residue. "We've got to move on!" He cries with a petite yet rough voice. "Plenty of work of Sodden,"

After a while of muttering, someone slams their pickaxe to the ground, gaining everyone's attention at the sound of his defeat. "My son — rest his soul — told me... in Nilfgaard," He circles the group of men, becoming the next messiah. "The king diddled whores while his subjects _starved_ ," He growls, dramatically enhancing his words like a true performer. Danyll chuckles lightly, crossing her leg and enjoying the show while Geralt rolls his eyes at the messiah. "Then, someone came — the Usurper — and he rallied the people, and they took back what was theirs!" Everyone in the crowd cheers as he screams at the thought. "I saw we follow their lead!"

Danyll looks at Geralt, raising an eyebrow. "I'll do it," He chuckles, smothering a smirk on his lips while Danyll sits back and relax, going to be entertained by the idea of Geralt destroying these men's dignity. "You can't kill the _Vukodlak_ , so you decide to kill your king? Great plan," He says, sarcastically. Danyll, on the other hand, claps with her gloved hands, nodding at Geralt's words.

"Another fuckin' witcher," The messiah says to his men. "And he's brought another one because he's frail and weak!" He, along with the rest, laughs at Geralt. Danyll scoffs, rolling her eyes at their worthless mockeries. "Your kind already swindled us once,"

"I get compensated most of the time," Danyll explains, shrugging.

"I take payment after the job is done _and_ for a third of the price," Geralt says, smiling. "An apology... from my guild to yours,"

Unknown to do something about his apology, the exchanging messiah turns to his man for aid on this, but neither of them had any idea what to do with it. "And if you can't kill it?"

"Then I die," Geralt replies.

"What about you?" The man gestures at Danyll.

"You can watch my body struggle for air as I am hung from the highest rope," Danyll nods, bowing for her promise.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps marching against the ground echo in the tunnel and everyone's attention diverted to the incoming sounds. Horses neigh behind the small army of soldiers as they stop beyond the miners' preparation to kill anyone who dares to challenge them in their plan to assassinate their current king. "Please," Someone speaks on behalf of the army of men — of the King of Temeria. "Everyone remain calm. Lower your weapons and return to your homes. Do so quickly and without further theatrics, and you have my words that our king will not hear of this treason,"

"Foltest commits treason," One of the miners says — " _The king?_ " — "He hides in his winter castle as _we_ are eaten," The man continues. Everyone behind him cheers to the revelation.

The Lord nods. "Mikal was a good boy," He says, raising a hand onto the miner's shoulder. "Revenge will _not_ ease your pain," The miner sinks in the words before shoving the Lord's gloved hand off his shoulder and spits on his shoe. Everyone in the room prepares their weapons instantly, except for Danyll and Geralt. The Lord puts up one hand for his soldiers to stand down — they steady their spears, idle on their posture.

"You know _nothing_ of my pain," The miner says as a warning before returning to his group of men and gesturing at them to follow him so they can return home. Danyll watches as the men disperse away from the scene, and Danyll takes the cue of standing on the ground, arms crossed to portray an independent, strong woman for herself.

Geralt sighs. "Does Foltest have a plan?"

The Lord looks at them suspiciously. "See these two to our borders," He commands his soldiers. "Temereia's had their fill of... _witchers_ ,"

The Lord leaves the area and four of his men, on their high horses, guide Danyll and Geralt out of the mine through the entrance they used earlier. Danyll scoffs in the journey of returning to the borders of Temeria, knowing that the path itself is tiring. "I was looking forward to the creature that lurks in Temeria," Confesses Danyll to Geralt, who breaks a small smile. "I would've killed the creature as easy as flowing water,"

"Don't be too cocky," Geralt says as they are walking with the four horsemen that corner them. "Not all creatures are the same; remember what Vesemir said, ' _Don't let your skills overcome your will of thinking_ '."

"I can confirm that Vesemir didn't actually say that," Danyll sighs, shaking her head. "Well, for what it's worth, we get to return to Grand and Roach,"

"You named... your horse Grand?" Geralt looks at Danyll with great confusion. "Is it your third Grand?"

Danyll looks down. " _Fourth_ ," She mumbles. "The first one... well, you saw what happened," She looks at Geralt, who nods. "Then the second and third weren't lucky enough to have joined me in my fair share of duels with the monsters. They _think_ they can overcome a monster's strength and speed, but I doubt they knew they were _fucked_ ," She chuckles. "But the Grand I have now has been blessed with the smarts and skills to listen to my orders, but I see that you and Roach have been best friends,"

"Yeah, Roach has been there for me through thick and thin," Geralt says, smiling.

"Quiet!" Someone throws a pebble at Danyll's head.

"You son of a-!" Danyll attempts to grab the man's throat but Geralt's there to hold her back. The horses neigh at the soldiers' shock as he accidentally tugged on their manes. Suddenly, all four men fain and fall to the ground. "T-That wasn't me..." She says to Geralt, looking guilty although she's producing the truth.

Geralt senses someone and pulls out his sword while Danyll, utilising the witcher's senses too, draws out Rose. They look around, wanting to know what has been following them. " _Witcher_ ," Someone whispers.

They turn around and see a cloaked woman. "You can put down your weapons; I'm not here to hurt you,"

"Says the witch hiding in the woods," Geralt growls.

"Sorceress," The cloaked figure corrects him.

" _Witch_ ,"

"Triss Merigold," She introduces herself, pulling down the hood of her cloak and reveals herself with a voluminous amount of curls in raven feathers and her skin mimics the colour of caramel being created. "I serve King Foltest,"


	13. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫

* * *

"So, he makes a show of kicking us out then sends his errand girl to slip us some coin so we kill his monster," Geralt says, intimidatingly. They stare for a moment before Geralt inserts his sword into his scabbard and nods at Danyll to do the same — she seals Rose into her thigh scabbard, still cautious about Triss Merigold's presence around them. "Not a very original plan for a king,"

"It's _my_ plan," Triss Merigold says with pride, approaching them with no wariness. "My coin; and I don't want you to kill the beast, I want you to help me save it,"

Danyll hums.   
It's not that much of a ride when going to the sorceress's cave down under the castle. By the time they reach the castle, the sun is slowly rising above the horizon and Danyll can't have the chance to take a look at it and enjoy the moment. They walk through the castle in order to go down the spiral stairs and to the basement, where Triss's laboratory is.

"Six years ago," Triss begins. "Stable hands started vanishing at the castle above the city. Before long, citizens were disappearing throughout all Temeria. Foltest's royal guards soon realised the creature was coming from the crypt where the king's sister, Adda, is buried. Rumour has it, she was having an affair with a young man when she died,"

"Was she pregnant?" Geralt asks, examining the tubes that are filled with potions and such.

"Well, if she were, that would make her child the sole heir to the throne," Triss explains. "As Foltest never married. The king fled the castle, ignoring the rising death toll. After Nilfgaard overthrew their kin, the Brotherhood couldn't risk it happening again, so they sent me here three months ago to cure the creature,"

"Vukodlaks are freak mutations," Danyll steals Geralt's thunder. Geralt sighs, looking at Danyll with an idle expression. "They can't be cured.

"Good thing it's not a Vukodlak," Triss smirks. Danyll and Geralt look at Triss with instant fascination. "Come with me, I have to show something," Danyll and Geralt take heed of Triss's command and they follow her out of the sorceress's cave and further down the belly of the castle, where the witchers can see three crypts of _someone_ inside each of them. "Two thousand orens if you can tell me what exactly killed these people," Triss tells them.

Geralt and Danyll take good looks at the deceased in their crypts, covered in snow to hide their ungodly wounds. Geralt walks over to the North one, which Danyll follows. Danyll didn't flinch at the sight of a Witcher's eyes gouged out and dried blood running down his face as if he was crying blood prior to his ungodly death. Around his neck is his wolf school necklace, same like Geralt's and Danyll's. Geralt reaches for the item and snaps it out of place.

"You didn't want the people to know that it bested a witcher," Geralt takes a guess. "And you let _them_ believe that he fled with their coin," He says, putting the necklace into his pocket before rummaging through the snow for the entrance of the deceased witcher's body. Finally, he does after a few seconds of digging. From the looks of it, the creature had dug their sharp beings into the witcher's stomach and dug out organs. Geralt didn't bother about morality to examine the body — he shoves his hand into the cavity of the witcher's.

"You two _clearly_ weren't acquainted," Triss says, sarcastically.

Geralt pulls out his hand, nodding at a deduction. "His heart's missing, along with his liver," He says. "Only one creature I know is that picky an eater," He looks at Danyll before Triss. "A striga," He and Danyll exhale simultaneously.

"Strigas are old wives' tales,"

"They're very rare," Danyll explains. "The only way to make one is through a curse,"

"Someone wanted Adda dead..." Triss combines all the thoughts together, gasping.

Geralt and Danyll nod.

"But the curse didn't stop with Adda. It turned her daughter into a monster,"

"Her _daughter_?" Triss asks, disbelief.

"Strigas are female," Danyll confirms.

"This striga's a princess,"

Triss gasps again. She buries her face into her hands momentarily, before nodding. "Alright, we shall bring this case to light to the king. He should be up and at breakfast by now," She gestures for Danyll and Geralt to follow her. They look at each other and say nothing to defy her idea.

Danyll hums. "Do you really think it's a striga?" She asks.

"Questioning my knowledge on monsters?" Geralt asks back.

Danyll rolls her eyes.

They approach the spiral stairs that lead to the castle's foyer, and there are castle guards guarding each and every room built in this castle. Triss ascends the grand stairs, followed by the witchers, and she gestures at the guards to open the door to the dining room that the king should be in. "What is the matter of this?" The King's army general asks at the presence of Triss, Geralt and Danyll. "The two witchers were supposed to be escorted _out_ through our borders,"

"I brought them back," Triss explains.

"Miss Merigold, you were dispatched to settle a family affair, _not_ to enlist mutant mercenaries for a game of sleuthing," The captain says.

"This is no game, Captain," Triss replies. "Tonight is a full moon, and Geralt and Danyll have already proved themselves to be invaluable. We believe we _can_ cure the creature," Triss explains further.

"You say she's a girl," The captain says in subtle disbelief. "Then you will refer to her as _Her Royal Highness_ ,"

"Segelin," The Lord from yesterday's riot, intervenes. "I believe urgency warrants flexibility in court decorum. The witchers' theory is nonsense. Princess Adda was the people's angel. Who'd wish to murder her?"

"What about her lover?" Geralt asks.

Danyll, in her peripheral vision, notices that King Foltest stopped eating at the mention of 'lover'. She squints her eyes, ensuring that the scene won't slip her thoughts.

"Seditious rumours," The captain denies. "Idle courtesans trading our boredom for jealousy,"

"Perhaps if you called off your guards," Triss begs. "If we were able to search the abandoned castle, we could find clues as to who cursed her,"

Segelin sighs. "Except these witchers would kill the princess as she sleeps and collect the miners' coin,"

"Call her a princess," Geralt begins. "Call her a unicorn if you'd like to. She grew inside Adda, feeding on her petrified womb."

"Have you _no_ respect?!" Segelin angers.

"Mutating," Danyll adds. "Growing for years till she got _so_ hungry," She approaches Segelin, a few heads different in height yet Segelin dares to hold the hilt of his sword in a cautionary tale. "She was _forced_ to slither out. Rotten muscle, bent bones, two spidery legs; claws dragging in the dirt. An overgrown _abortion_ ,"

"Enough," King Foltest whimpers.

"Your highness?"

" _Leave_ ," He suggests aggressively.

Geralt and Danyll look at each other, a synchronisation of thoughts as they turn around, opening the door for Triss, Selegin and the Lord, before pushing them out of the room and shutting the door, locking it. Geralt turns around to face the king and Danyll watches the door get banged heavily, hand against the hilt of Rose.

"Who's the princess's father?" Geralt asks.

"My men will kill both of you, witcher," Foltest threatens.

Geralt hums. "It's funny. You learn that your sister was murdered, and you didn't even flinch. But the moment I mention the girl's father..." Geralt squints his eyes. "Why were you never married?"

"You are speaking to a _King_ ," Foltest says.

"That is _exactly_ my point," Geralt responds. "Why not produce your own heir? Why not kill the striga and avoid this revolt? Why drag this all out? Between you and me... who is the striga's father?"

Foltest inhales sharply and stands, shoving his seat backwards. "I remember hearing stories about witchers when I was a child," Foltest approaches Geralt. "Is it true what they say?" The door thumps with the guards attempting to bang it open. "That the mutations grant you your _abilities_ also erase your emotions?" The door thumps yet Danyll doesn't flinch. "Must be; 'cause only a man devoid of all heart could accuse a brother of bedding his murdered sister while urging him to _kill_ her!"

Finally, the door bangs open and all the guards that once attempted to force it open almost take a fall. Segelin holds his sword tip against Danyll's chin yet, again, she doesn't flinch. The guards stop at the gesture of Foltest's hand. "Leave Temeria," He warns the witchers. " _Never_ return,"

Geralt walks towards the doors and Danyll pushes Segelin away before sealing Rose into her scabbard, following Geralt. "We're not leaving Temeria, of course?" She asks casually, out of Foltest's or the guards' earshot.

"No,"


	14. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔳𝔢

* * *

The _Kingdom of Temeria_ is layered with blankets of snow and, as Danyll leaves the inn that she paid for herself and Geralt, she abandons her footsteps in the snow before it disappears along with the dirt road, becoming more evident. Danyll doesn't say anything about Geralt's plan — she agrees to take down the Striga and it's best to do it by inspecting the abandoned castle.

However, Geralt and Danyll can't simply walk into the place as if they own it. There are two guards watching over the perimeters of the abandoned castle and by the sight of their paranoia and cowardice, anything can scare them easily. Geralt and Danyll stay by the snowy vines, watching the guards' every move. They begin a conversation between each other about how long more have they've got to be there.

"You were told to leave Temeria," A sweet voice speaks behind them.

Geralt scoffs, knowing that it's Triss. He looks behind. "But come on," Geralt teases. "These views,"

"Are you going to kill her?" Triss asks, concerned.

"We don't want the miners' coin,"

"Or mine, apparently," Triss scoffs. "What is this girl to you?" Geralt looks at Danyll in a look that she's never seen him express, or herself nonetheless. It's something... _beautiful_ — she can imagine it would be the same expression when he carries his own babe _if_ he weren't a witcher. "Why do you care?"

"You first," Geralt breaks the expression and looks at Triss. "I saw how Foltest and his boy spoke to you. Why help those who won't listen?"

Triss looks up at the castle and sighs. "I'm sure someone as legendary as both of you has already figured out several ways to get past Segelin's guards," Once she speaks the truth, Geralt and Danyll look at each other once more, but this time, with a blank expression. They reach for the same rock but Geralt has a stronger hold on it before throwing the rock at the direction of the bridge.

With that being their distraction, the guards quickly flee the scene in cowardice — scared that there will be a lurking creature inside that _will_ eat them alive and they don't want that to happen to them. Danyll shakes her head at their easiness to leave their posts and walks up the bridge, entering through the door beyond the open gate. Geralt and Triss follow behind, and Geralt closes the door then.

"Temeria reeks of secrets. I could sense them," Triss says, eyeing through the thick dust. "Just like I could these bodies before we entered," They all walk pass the meatless bones with respect; Triss looks at Danyll and Geralt. "I imagine you two sense them too," Geralt tries a door instead of answering to Triss's hunch. "Foltest and Adda. What happened to them?" She asks in general to both witchers. "Not answering questions is a pillar of your brooding charms,"

Geralt blinks, inhaling a subtle sigh. "Pretty sure Foltest is the father,"

"Agreed," Danyll says, following him.

They travel together into the belly of the castle, finding the grand staircase that leads up and up to the tallest of the whole architecture. After a while of finding more doors locked, Geralt manages to unlock one and they enter quietly. The room is dusty and cobwebs are joined everywhere; there's a fallen chandelier with candles that are still intact.

"Adda's bedroom," Triss says. "Do you think he cursed her?" Danyll and Geralt look at Triss. "Foltest,"

"Maybe," Danyll says.

Triss bends down to open a box that is caked with dust and Danyll looks inside of it with her — nothing. They begin to explore the room for any signs of an undeniable curse; Geralt checks the wardrobes. Triss checks the drawers and Danyll gets onto her knees, flattening herself in the process, to inspect the ground and see if there's anything underneath the bed. As she sits up, she notices Geralt's presence in front of the bed, inhaling sharply. They quickly react to the sudden lullaby music playing on Triss's side of the room.

After a momentary silence after Triss playing the music box, she calls for the witchers. "Letters, from Queen Sancia — Foltest and Adda's mother," She says, looking back at the letter.

"We need to bring it to Foltest's advisor," Danyll suggest, which Geralt hums and Triss agrees. They walk out of the room and down the stairs, back to where they were at the door. Since Foltest basically exiled them out of Temeria, Triss leads them through a secret passage for Foltest's advisor's chambers and Triss knocks on the wooden door before being called in. "Sir, we've found evidence of sorts concerning Adda,"

He looks surprised to see the witchers are still in Temeria, yet he doesn't have the energy to put up a fight. He sighs, taking the folded letters from Triss's hands. "A Queen mother cursing her own children for their affair," The advisor places the papers onto the desk. "This could destroy the throne,"

"Sancia wanted Adda to get rid of the child," Geralt suggests, leaning against the wall with Danyll standing beside him, with her arms crossed.

"It seems she refused," Triss leads on. "Repeatedly,"

"And now she's taken that curse with her to the grave," The advisor sighs. Danyll squints her eyes, hearing a light thumping in the advisor's chest that seems arrhythmic.

"You've served the family for decades," Triss reminds him. "Was Sancia involved in dark sorcery of any kind?"

The advisor shakes his head. "No, of course not,"

"What was your relationship to Adda?" Danyll asks, clenching her hands for the out of the blue question with looming curiosity. ' _He's jumping onto too many conclusions_ ,' She thinks, scrunching her eyebrows.

"Well..." The advisor shrugs. "I like to think that she saw me as a confidant, and protector, even," Danyll scoffs subtly, registering his words intently. "We used to talk at great length about her troubles. She could be very naïve,"

Geralt nods.

"She ever mention her brother?"

"Certainly not like this," The advisor turns around, gesturing at the letters written by Queen Sancia.

"She was ashamed," Triss says.

"Or she was frightened," The advisor quickly responds — ' _Yes, be more fearful about getting caught_ ,' thinks Danyll. "What if the relationship was not... _consensual_?"

Danyll grabs hold of the hilt of Rose and Geralt sees that, which he shakes his head subtly. She can already sense something is wrong — something off — about this guy, and it all relates to the death of Princess Adda and Foltest, at some point.

Geralt hums. "You think he raped Adda, then cursed the child to cover it up?" He asks.

"Well, kings have done more for less,"

"True..." Geralt speaks before sighing. "There's only one wrinkle though," He says, approaching the advisor. "Your scent was on her sheets," Danyll has a thundering realisation that his smell is relatively similar to the one in Adda's room.

"Geralt," Triss intervenes, trying to hold Geralt back.

"Old ones..." Geralt ignores Triss. "And new ones,"

"What would _I_ be doing in a dead girl's bed?" The advisor scoffs, and Danyll can hear his heartbeat racing. She smirks.

Geralt grimaces and leans close to the advisor's ear. "I smelled what you were doing," He whispers and pulls back; the advisor looks hellishly terrified as if the truth is about to implode into his own face.

Finally, the pressure builds up in the advisor's bodily vessel and he rapidly breathes. "Foltest had _no_ right!" He cries, proving Danyll's suspicion about his involvement in the curse of Princess Adda. "He _seduced_ Adda. Abused his position! He was always nagging her for attention! _Always_ nagging! But he didn't love her — I did,"

Triss, in disbelief, asks, "You _cursed_ the woman you loved?"

"I cursed Foltest, not her,"

" _Countless_ are dead because of _your_ jealousy," Triss says with utter disgust and rage.

"Countless are dead because of _Foltest_!" The advisor spits back venom. "He spoiled Adda with his seed — he refuses to kill this... _striga_. He lies to his people and yet you wag your finger in _my_ face,"

"If _you_ wanted him to suffer, you could have just exposed the affair," Triss hisses.

"And hurt Adda?" The advisor shakes his head, scared. "Never. Her memory will not be sullied, not while I'm alive to protect it,"

Danyll cracks her knuckles. "Tell us how to lift the curse,"

" _No_ ," The advisor has the balls to say that, surprisingly. "Foltest will watch as Temeria turns against him — just as he turned Adda against _me_ ,"

Geralt hums, approaching the advisor and uses his strength to strike a punch into the advisor's face.


	15. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫

* * *

Danyll examines herself through the mirror above the sink of her room in the inn. She reminisces greatly of the length of her hair prior cutting it out in spit — out of useless anger — but somehow, she's grown to like it. She had never imagined herself with short hair, but it's good for practicality when she's in a fight and someone attempts to grab her long locks, now they won't be able to because it's non-existent.

She runs her hands through her silver hair, flattening it in front so that it would cover her face while ruffling it out of place so it'd look like she had just gotten out of bed or from a rough duel involving ground. ' _Di you cut your hair for Geralt, Dany?_ ' Her subconscious asks, giggling at the embarrassment and the small hint of blush painting on Danyll's cheeks. ' _You were mad at him, but now that you've grown to like it, it must've been Geralt's anger that made you_ ** _beautiful_** ,' Danyll stops, her blush no longer exists and annoyance replaces the complexion on her face. She shuts her eyes, wanting the voice to go away. ' _You think he likes you — just because you've fucked once. That's only once and never again will he ever bed you_ ,'

"Shut up," Danyll whispers to herself, to her subconscious. "He doesn't love me — I don't need his love to validate how I look,"

' _Oh, but you do,_ ' The subconscious pulls Danyll into a trance of darkness. Danyll looks down, seeing her boots submerged in Adam's ale and every movement she makes will create regularity of ripples. Danyll looks up, still seeing nothing but darkness and she spins around like a bard on a stage doing performance; her heart pacing for something to cling onto to show that she's not going insane. ' _You want him to notice you the way he noticed you while you were going through Vesemir's trials_ ,' The voice speaks, echoing throughout. ' _Your hair may have deceived Geralt's childish mind back then, but your body betrays_ ** _you_** _,_ '

"Shut up," Danyll trembles, falling onto her knees. No resounding 'splash' as she falls onto her knees, head in hands and shaking it as if that would help the voice to go away. "I don't want to listen to you. You're just a voice,"

' ** _Everyone_** _thought you were a boy. You couldn't be a girl_ ,' She notices a pair of feet circling her like a hawk prowling for food. ' _You kept cutting your hair because you hated being a girl but Geralt found out, eventually, because of your growing bosoms. You wanted to cut them out because they made you_ ** _weak_** ,' Danyll's eyes flow with tears. ' _So, is this for Geralt or is this for you, Dany? You've cut your hair like before — are you going to cut our your firm bosoms because some man belittled your emotions?_ '

Danyll looks up and her eyes widen.

Geralt shakes Danyll's body once he hears a body falling to the ground and he comes crashing down her door to her room in one of Temeria's inn, finding her on the ground with her hand clutching something that's made her hand bloodied. Her hair is stained with the blood from the hand and Geralt finds an unsettling view of Danyll's a large line across her neck and her torso exposed, especially her bosoms with a faint lining of the mirror's shard done damage beneath it.

"Danyll," Geralt shakes her.

Danyll hears the call and instantly sits up, wincing in pain at the sharp object in her hand digging into her already-open wound. She lets go of the object and tries to wipe away the blood on her shirt but she wipes it on her skin instead. It takes her a while to realise that her throat has been healing from the slit and that her torso is bare for Geralt to see, and she quickly hides it by buttoning her linen shirt and putting on her leather armour.

"Are you okay?" Geralt asks.

"Yes, I'm fine," Danyll washes away the blood using the sink, sighing and wraps her hand with a bandage she's got a spare in her satchel. "Let's just deal with this princess,"

Danyll and Geralt carry their scabbards of swords along with their own bags, approaching the bridge of the abandoned castle and standing, in a formation, are Folster's men. The more they approach, the soldiers prepare their shields. Danyll and Geralt sigh simultaneously, letting down their items at the side of the bridge. They both pull out their steel swords in any case that Folster's men need to satisfy their need to take down the witchers. However, Folster's men part to the side.

"Oh, so quick to violence!" Criest Foltest in disappointment. "Strange... considering what Miss Merigold told me about you two,"

"And what's that?" Danyll asks.

"She told me... to _trust_ you," King Foltest chuckles, approaching the two witchers with little fear raging in his eyes. "Will this work?" He asks. "Answer honestly," Foltest's eyes travel between Geralt and Danyll, who spare no chance of giving dishonest, expensive mistakes.

Geralt looks away from King Foltest. "I don't know.

"Will my..." He has an expression of distaste as if he doesn't want to say it in the first place, wishing it weren't true. "Will my daughter... be normal?"

"She'll need special care," Danyll explains. "She's lived like an animal. All she's ever known is... rage and hunger,"

Foltest lets down his guard, about to cry in scarce bravery. Geralt sighs, sealing his sword into his scabbard while Danyll maintains her's in her hands — Geralt's move demands the soldiers to put away their weapons. In Danyll's peripheral vision, she can see Geralt pulling out something from his scabbard, other than a weapon. He walks over to Foltest, handing him the item.

Foltest removes one of his gloves to take the item and examine it. "What is this?" He asks.

"For the princess," Geralt says. "If I can lift the curse. A gift,"

"You're giving me this because you do not expect to see morning," Foltest blinks, disbelief.

"This isn't my first time trying to save a princess," Geralt says, somehow making Foltest look at Danyll, thinking she was the one who he mentioned. "Who others see as a monster,"

"What happened to the princess?" Foltest asks.

Geralt takes a moment.  
"I killed her,"

Foltest subtly frowns. "I did try to resist, at first, with Adda," He says. "We both did," He trembles an inhale. "For all it brightens, love casts long shadows. I envy you two," He chuckles. "To live... and never have to fall in love,"

Danyll's heart somehow stopped its entire beating. The words said by Foltest plucked a string in her beating muscle, and she slowly looked at Geralt's hand, with fingers that twitched. However, neither says anything about Foltest's statement and carry their gears to prepare themselves for what's about to come in the abandoned castle. Foltest walks away, along with his soldiers.

Geralt walks off first into the castle while Danyll sways her ways between the soldiers, looking at her injured hand.

' _Is this for Geralt or is this for you, Dany?_ '


	16. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫

* * *

There's nothing bitter for Danyll than the silence in which she can't translate with her knowledgeable mind. She keeps her eyes on Geralt's back, despite him walking further in front, and wonders many things — if they _weren't_ witchers under Vesemir's wings, what would they be? Danyll's not one for destinies but if it is, _per se_ , will they ever meet under normal circumstances and feel the chance of what humans call _falling in love_? Maybe have a family together in a small village with a farm to care for or will he utilise his body strength and serve in a kingdom's army?

Danyll sniffles, looking away from Geralt's back and thinks about the blackout she had earlier in her room. What _was_ she doing with the shard of glass? Shameful, she thinks, as her breasts were properly exposed to her boon that she has bedded with once before. All she can remember prior to the awakening on the floor is the voice of Osenne, leading her down the path of the dark side — the darkest she can manipulate Danyll to see herself. It was _her_ that she saw, the real Danyll — red-flamed hair with fair skin with freckles on her cheeks and nose rather than the pale one she's gotten used to seeing in the mirror on a daily basis; her eyes, too, weren't the ruby ones, they were brown like dark oak.

Osenne was trying to show her something, Danyll knows that.  
She didn't want her to be seen by Geralt again — she wants to separate them. Danyll didn't like that, of course. She never liked Osenne. Granted, she did a little until she had gone behind Danyll's back to gain the trust of a suspicious mage and when his words went through her mind, she _massacred_ the whole town — the men and the women, the children and the babes. She was ruthless and Danyll didn't see the same Osenne she fell in love with anymore. She fled the scene with Grand before Osenne would have realised. Though, Osenne must've found her in the town before Temeria in some way because it wouldn't have been destiny that brought them together.

"Stop thinking," Geralt warns. "We don't want to frighten the beast,"

"The beast has yet to wake," Danyll says, holding the hilt of Rose. "We've got the Lord in the chambers; tied, I assume?"

"Questioning me yet again?" Geralt scoffs, which sounded like a disappointed sigh.

"I question your thoughts, yes, but I've never doubt for it to fail," Danyll says, ascending the stairs behind Geralt. The sun's not up to shine brightly; the moonlight falling down the custom-shaped windows give heavenly light down to their path. "I've never believed in religions, but the Divine seems to give us a good sign that we will be able to cure the princess," Danyll says, reaching the high platform and follow Geralt into late-Princess Adda's room, where a bloodied man, the Lord, has his arms tied to each pole of the end of the bed.

Their entrance didn't wake him but slowly, he gained consciousness as Danyll and Geralt examined the room, re-canvassing if there were any items that could've led to the curse of the striga. As they look up at the bookshelf, they hear an angry grunt for a failed attempt to escape. "Witcher!" ' _He's awake,_ ' Thinks Danyll calmly. "This is _madness_! What are we doing here?! What's happening?!"

Geralt faces the window that's shattered, letting the snow fall to the ground of the room. "How can we lift the curse?" He asks.

" _No_!" The Lord cries. "This is _not_ right! Foltest must pay for what he did!"

Danyll looks at the Lord through her peripheral vision. "Explain that to her,"

"Carry me out," The Lord demands. "I _order_ you,"

"Tell me how to lift the curse," Geralt growls on the question, looking at the Lord with a disinterest of letting him go.

The Lord begins panting, refusing on Geralt's question. "Sh-She was hiding from the Brotherhood," He speaks. "She sold me a lamb! Sh-She told me to wait until a full moon, to _wait_ and then to kill it," Geralt kneels in front of the puny Lord; Danyll holds onto Rose tightly. "And then I recited some _silly_ chant, and then I bathed in the lamb's blood until sunrise — until the rooster crowed three times, and that is all!" He frowns with his bloodied lips. "I swear. I _swear_. Now please, let us leave..."

"What was the chant?" Geralt asks.

The Lord starts gasping at Geralt's stubbornness to get the answers out of his mouth, wanting what any constraint humans would want — _freedom_. However, he won't be able to get any at the current moment because they are here to save a girl's life from forever rage and endless personified hatred.

"It was years ago..." The Lord sighs, though panting still. "It was Eleven. Um..." He shakes his head, trying to recall through his memory. He begins to speak in Elder of the chant that he's casted on the late-Princess Adda's child. He sighs in the middle and continues still. At the end of the chant, Geralt quickly stands up to approach the items he's laid out on the shelf. "Wh— What is it... The— I— I've done what you've asked, what more can I do?!"

Danyll draws out Rose and places the tip of the blade against the Lord's chin, where one silly mistake he makes and she can shove the blade up towards his brain and he'll be dead in _seconds_.

" _Nothing_ ," Geralt groans. "Unless you can keep a striga out of her crypt until a _fucking_ rooster crows three times,"

The Lord and Danyll have the same expression of realisation.

"You're gonna have to fight her till dawn," The Lord speaks Danyll's thoughts.

Geralt drinks a bottle of his potion before tossing another one to Danyll, who pops the cork out and drinks the concoction down her throat. The concoction stirs up in her blood and veins, making it course to enhance everything she has. As the full moon shines brightly down at the abandoned castle, they hear a banshee-like, feminine screech higher than a melodic, singing bird.

"No, no, come back here!" Pleads the Lord. " _Please_ , please! You'd leave a man bound to die in such indignity?!"

Danyll scoffs, following Geralt out of late-Princess Adda's room.

"You're not a man," Geralt comments as he walks further towards the screech.

Slowly, around the abandoned castle, they can hear screeches and whimpers of the striga, and Danyll holds the hilt of Rose in a cautionary tale of the creature. They descend the grand stairs, then hearing the screech become higher with a faint blood splatter following. ' _The Lord_ ,' Danyll sighs in her mind. Then, she hears rasping moaning coming from upstairs. Danyll sheathes Rose and prepares her silver sword while Geralt holds chains that are smithed in silver, and they wait at the bottom of the stairs. Producing itself in their sight is an ungodly creature that's prowling for food that can be found anywhere near the abandoned castle's whereabouts.

The striga keeps screeching for every step it takes down the stairs, not scaring neither Geralt or Dany. Geralt smirks a little, knowing that this creature will be no match for the both of them with their silver weapons. Geralt begins to swing the silver chain for a dramatic moment until it can reach the striga and once it does, the chain wraps around the striga and by their eyes, they can see that the silver is working on the monster. However, it's quick to break as the creature struggles further.

"Fuck," Geralt groans.

The creature leaps across the stairs and crashes into Geralt while Danyll utilises her reflexes to roll the floor, spectating Geralt struggling with the creature. Though, he gets onto his feet and swings the creature to the wall, hurting its back. Danyll tries to swing her silver sword at the striga but Geralt tells her not to, reminding her that it is not their duty to hurt the princess that lies beneath the striga skin.

Danyll and Geralt take turns to punch the striga and, as it swings its arms towards them, they both cast a telekinetic blast at the striga, sending it straight towards the end of the hallway. They approach the creature, seeing it scramble onto its feet and screech at the sight of them. The creature takes another swing at them but Danyll kicks it to the ground and Geralt grabs an unlit sconce to attack the striga with.

"So much for not hurting the princess!" Danyll says, sarcastically, watching Geralt hit the 'princess' once more with the sconce. The striga targets Danyll and Geralt, both tackled to the ground and the striga hovers above them; its saliva dripping on each of their faces. Danyll shuts her eyes, not wanting a creature's biological secreting glands to be in her sight as it's _disgusting_ to her, to say the least. The striga grabs Geralt and pins him to the wall while Danyll grabs the sconce and hits its back. "You want to fight, you ugly bitch?!"

The striga did not react to Danyll's hits but, instead, it remained slamming Geralt on each wall before throwing him across the hallway. Then, the creature looks at Danyll. They both look at Geralt, and Danyll's about to run for him when the creature scratches Danyll across the stomach and she winces in pain. Nevertheless, that didn't stop Danyll from running to save geralt — she draws out her silver sword and is ready to penetrate the blade into the striga's chest when Geralt uses his telekinetic abilities to demolish the weak ground of the hallway, sending the three of them crashing down to the floor of the entrance hall of the abandoned castle.

Geralt remains unconscious and Danyll is under a mountainous amount of rubble. Danyll pushes off the heavy rocks, using her own telekinetic abilities to shove those that are heavier than usual. She finally gets onto her feet, feeling ache all over her body as she staggers towards Geralt and shakes him once she's on her knees. "Geralt," She calls him. Geralt quickly wakes up, comprehending the situation at the moment. "It's near sunrise," She whispers, looking at the striga that's unconscious beside him. "Do you still have the potions?" She asks, and Geralt pulls out two bottles from his belt, realising that they've been shattered upon the impact. Geralt goes to any open entries that would let the striga out and casts a spell to shield off the exits to prevent the striga to leave. "Are you sure this is going to work?" She asks, panting and looking down at her wounds, which are healing.

Geralt looks at her, nodding. However, his expression changes. Danyll looks at the direction that Geralt is wary about and they come to their senses that the striga's _gone_. They sense something at the same time and they look behind, seeing that the striga's been holding onto the ceiling and screeches, leaping onto Geralt. Danyll jumps behind, scurrying for her silver sword. The striga throws Geralt at the direction of the column before looking at Danyll for a hideous fight.

Geralt tries to crawl towards Danyll, who's prepared to take down the striga, but they're both too occupied with what's happening. Danyll, attempting to grab her sword; Geralt, being hit by the striga on the back numerous times. Danyll feels useless as she watches Geralt being senselessly beaten but an amazing thought crosses her mind. She leaps for the sword and runs for the crypt, climbing into and closing it. She seals the crypt with the same sign Geralt used to shield the exits — for creatures to not be able to access it.

She shuts her eyes.  
From inside the crypt, she can hear faint screeches and rough fighting happening, and she's praying to anything that she _doesn't_ believe in that Geralt wouldn't get killed because of the striga. Something's happening outside beyond the crypt as she can hear the striga loud and clear, trying to get into the crypt badly.

' _It's already sunrise..._ ' Danyll thinks, flattening her palms against the ceiling of the crypt.

After a while, there are no sounds of the striga screeching. Danyll breathes in and out, before opening the crypt and she sees that Geralt has been sitting next to it. She sits up, comprehending that there's a feminine, naked figure lying on the ground not too far from where Danyll's sitting in. Danyll grunts as she leaves the tomb, holding her bloodied stomach wound.

"It worked," Danyll sighs in relief. Geralt stands onto his feet and together, they cautiously walk towards the human body crouching on the floor on her side. "It's the princess..." Danyll exhales, as Geralt slowly turns the body so they can meet eye-to-eye. As the princess shows her face, she still has long nails and scratches on the neck. Geralt, surprised, is pulled back and Danyll produces her sword before witnessing the cannibalistic princess tearing the flesh off his neck.

Danyll drags Geralt away from the princess, then looks at Geralt, who's holding the wound on his neck and his mouth is pouring out blood. Danyll holds Geralt's face, making him focus on her. "It's going to be alright," She says, but soon enough, he falls to his side and faints. 


	17. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔦𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫

* * *

Triss enters the abandoned castle's whereabouts with Folster's men. They find the once-striga princess and Danyll, holding onto unconscious Geralt. The men slowly aid the princess to somewhere where she can get cleaned up and be properly attired, while Danyll carries Geralt's body with her mighty strength and follow Triss to her laboratory underneath the castle. Danyll gently places Geralt onto a bed and Triss quickly produces multiple herbs into a white coloured mortar and uses a pestle to crush the medicine together before pouring a honey-like concoction into the mortar. Throughout watching Triss mixing a healing herb for Geralt and watching over him, he keeps slipping in and out of consciousness, calling out for the princess he killed in Blaviken — Renfri.

Something inside of her feels a tugging feeling as if her heart has plucked a string. She gulps, looking away from Geralt. "I shall take my leave," She informs Triss. "There are other monsters out there and my horse is waiting for me in the village before Temeria," She looks at Triss, who has an expression that pleads for her not to leave them here. Danyll clenches her fists and glances below, eyeing at the wound the princess had left on her. She had long forgotten about the wounds and her blood's still oozing out of them, and she sighs. "Disregard the wound, Merigold. I will heal fast,"

"Why do you wish to leave so soon, Danyll? — take off your armour," She says, then demands as she brings bandages into the honey-herbs mixture. "People of Temeria will celebrate your name and Geralt's once King Foltest makes it official that the stubborn witchers were the ones who _saved_ the princess," Danyll follows what Triss has said: removing her leather armour and lifts up her shirt, revealing a larger wound than she'd expected. Triss begins to wipe off the blood — wet and dried — using a cloth in water. "Although, I'm sure telling his people that the princess is of the offspring of his and the late-Princess Adda doesn't do well in gossip, does it?" She asks; Danyll remains indifferent on such political turmoil. "This is going to be a little bit painful,"

Danyll didn't hiss in pain when Triss wipes the honey-herb mixture on her claw-mark wound. It feels like being stung by a small bee and being able to slap the creature away and that's the _only_ sting Danyll can feel. After a while, the wound slowly starts to close as Triss wraps a cloth bandage around her stomach so that the wound will not be disturbed in the process of healing. "You love him," Triss sits on a chair next to Danyll, who blinks her eyes in surprise at Triss's sudden conclusion. "How long have you've loved him, Danyll?" I... I sense many years,"

"Witchers don't fall in love — we don't comprehend human emotions," Danyll says, pulling down her shirt and sighs, hitting the wound so it will heal faster.

"Right, _human_ emotions," Triss reminds her. "What about witcher emotions? There's something _bound_ to connect you two together. You're his destiny and he is yours; what brings you about to like him in the first place, Danyll?" Triss asks.

Danyll looks at Geralt, who's subtly breathing as he rests. "When I was adopted by our master witcher, Geralt saw nothing but a scared little girl that's going to die in the _Trial of Grasses_ ," Danyll clears her throat, nodding. "I survived, surprisingly. Of course, with consequences — at the time of the trials, I hadn't grown my breasts and Vesemir, our master witcher, made me promise to keep my hair short. However, Geralt was the smartest out of all those who survived the trials; hew _knew_ that I was the first female witcher, so far,"

Triss nods in understanding, watching Danyll eye at her bloodied shirt and Geralt.

"Vesemir paired us up when it came to training our swords or face against the cruel monsters of the world. Geralt had the thought that if he _at least_ showed a little care about my wellbeing, it would mean that I don't have to do the same to him," She scoffs. "But I was damned when I began to care about him, despite Vesemire saying we were stripped of human emotions," Danyll's hand starts to shake, the one that held onto a shard of mirror tightly that it bled while she was unconscious. "As I grew up, nature took its toll on me and I grew breasts, and because of Vesemir's words to make me promise that I should keep my image as a boy, I _hated_ myself. The hatred only grew and grew that I grabbed my trusted dagger and attempted to cut them out — the breasts — when Geralt walked into my room without knocking and saw what I was about to do,"

"So... he stopped you?" Triss asks.

"He gave me an ultimatum," Danyll shrugs. "If I cut out my breasts, will it show weakness and submission to Vesemir? — to prove that he has dominance in controlling me and my thoughts?" She looks at Geralt. "Or, if I _hadn't_ cut off my breasts, will it make me a stronger person? To show the world that a witcher, who's a female, is as strong as a king's entire army that can be counted as five thousand?" Danyll scoffs, leaning back into her chair. "If it weren't for him, I would've self-loathed more than an arrogant, egotistic man fails to protect his family,"

"He helped you. In return... your heart-"

" _Osenne..._ " Breathes Geralt, as his eyes scrunch, along with his face. " _No..._ " He whimpers, then his body begins to entirely shake as if he's having some sort of physical ailment that's causing him to do so. Triss and Danyll jump out of their chairs to hold Geralt down, however, his feet are out of control. " _No, don't her...!_ " He whimpers once more. Triss and Danyll look at each other, wanting to know what's happening.

"Osenne..." Danyll growls. "Can you calm him down?" She asks Triss.

Triss shakily breathes and places her fingers around Geralt's head, shutting her eyes. "Th-There's something strong in his mind palace... a presence... filled with _hatred_ and _jealousy_ ," She says, before gasping. "It's _Osenne of Coldcrest_. She's trying to hurt his mind," Triss scrunches her face, then gasps. "He's trying his hardest to fight her off," Triss wants to say something that can be sensed from Geralt, but she ends up tearing up and teardrops roll down her cheeks. "She's... _here_ , in this room.

Danyll's eyes widen and she stumbles on her feet to find Rose, and when she does, she'd wrapped her hand on the dagger's hilt, when it's forced out of her hand. Danyll turns around, facing a cloaked figure standing at the entrance of Triss's laboratory.

"Did you miss me?"


	18. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔵𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫

* * *

"Stop this madness, Osenne!" Cries Danyll, drawing out her steel sword from her scabbard. The figure hauls down its hood, revealing a scarred face as if a fire had scorched his skins. His left eye is shut due to it being fried from fierce flames. He grins at the sight of Danyll, already thinking of ways to take her down to the grave and never let her crawl back up. He holds Rose tightly, dominating the hilt although the ruby gem doesn't gleam under his touch as it does with Danyll. "Triss... it's not Osenne," She sees a glimmer of mischief and chaos in the man's good eye and Danyll's eyes widen like the moon, sharply turning to Triss. " **Protect him!** " She screams before being transported to another place, one where she can't recognise at all. It's a snowy field, nonetheless; no houses, no castles — just a plane of oblivion. Danyll glares at him. "What do you want from me?!"

"Peace,"

"I know who you are," Danyll scoffs, holding her stomach that's bleeding less but the wound still aches from the impact of being pulled into a portal and hitting the ground hard. She recognises him vividly as if their paths crossed only yesterday. "Gwayne of Lynette; you don't _do_ peace," Danyll holds the handle of her steel sword tightly with one hand. "You were there when Osenne massacred the whole town — ruthless, bloodily. Innocent people _died_ because of you and Osenne. Their fucking blood is in your hands! You could've saved him, but you chose _not_ to," Danyll's nose flares in anger, seeing that Gwayne's reaction is only to smile at her anger. "What, you sick fuck?! — You take pleasure in someone's anger?" She scoffs. "I do take you as a masochist,"

"Osenne's always seen something in you," Gwayne says, juggling Rose in each hand. " _Something_ that's... irresistible about you — the first _female_ witcher; the strongest one out there aside from Geralt of Rivia and your eyes," He squints his, examining the physique of Danyll — a female, of course. Her body shape is like a thin mirror with wearing male clothing, but if she were to wear something more feminine, it would bring out her curves. "They are ruby, like the hilt of your precious dagger," He looks at the hilt, humming. "Where did you get this? It seems _important_ to you that you've taken it everywhere and gave it the finest sharpening it can get, despite it being silver. Don't you know that silvers break easily?" He asks, although wanting to sound like a smart and a pretentious prick. "Silvers are for monsters, so how has the blade not killed its master yet?"

"You ask too many questions. You took me away from Geralt to fight me, didn't you?" Danyll sheathes the sword before holding herself into a fighting stance, squinting her ruby eyes. "Fight me like the mad man you are, Gwayne!" She runs for him, shouting a battle cry but with one swift hand of his, a force pushes her aside, making her fall onto the snowy ground and she grunts from the impact. "That's cheating!" Danyll hisses, feeling the ache of the wound on her stomach taking a toll on her. "Fight me without magic! You have my Rose, now fight me with that!"

"What fun will it be without some magic?" Asks Gwayne, throwing Rose into the air at the direction of Danyll yet she didn't flinch as the blade's tip is inches away from her ruby eye, landing a place for her like Osenne's that she gouged out before. "You witchers were given magic, so fight with _it_. No weapons,"

Danyll huffs and puffs like a human that had just done the longest run of their life, looking down at her shirt that's beginning to be stained with her own blood. Something's off with her inhuman healing — ' _What's wrong with it?_ ' She asks herself. Usually, it would've been minutes until the wound closed but it's still open and raw; even Triss's herbs, that were working to quicken the healing, aren't helping it. However, Danyll grabs her sword and stands up, cradling her stomach and holds her weapon int he air, facing the blade at Gwayne. "What did you do to Osenne?" She asks, having a sense that he's the entire reason why Osenne's turned maniacal. "She said Aretuza made her the woman she was that day, but why is it that she had the _guts_ to massacre a whole town?! The women and their babes, the men with their boys and girls — why?!"

Gwayne chuckles, throwing Rose at Danyll's direction and it instantly stabs into Danyll's striga wound. Danyll shouts in pain, falling onto one knee. "Aretuza," He scoffs. "A school that grows pathetic so-called sorceresses and serves to the dicks and cunts of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers. I shall regard my wish to Tissaia de Vries for producing such fine protégée that was so... weak and fragile in a state of mind. Did you know where the Brotherhood assigned poor Osenne? _Nilfgaard_ , and everybody knows what the Nilfgaardian king does to their mages," Gwayne's smile turns into a trembling frown as he positions his eyes to the ground as if there's a sense of empathy in him. "The king _raped_ her — senselessly and cruelty at best. I _saved_ her and you won't—"

Gwayne's head cocks behind as he didn't realise what was coming for his face. Danyll's fist lowers from the hit, soothing of the ache. She holds the handle of her sword with both hands, holding it above her as she's ready to execute this pathetic 'sorcerer'. Gwayne holds his chin, suddenly conjuring a telekinetic force that freezes her in place. Her eyes maintain a glance down but Gwayne stands onto his feet, laughing maniacally. "You _think_ you can defeat _me_?! The Great Gwayne of Lynette! I was _born_ a sorcerer with so much magic that _you_ , pathetic witcher, don't even know! I can make your organs explode inside of you and kill you _instantly_ ,"

She won't admit that she's scared. Yes, he's much powerful than her and she knows he knows. ' _Can he really do that?_ ' Danyll thinks, maintaining a solemn face. She's lived long decades where she's cheated death many times but how is it this time's different? Well, of course, she's frozen in place and he claims to be the sorcerer supreme — better than the Brotherhood of Sorcerers that co-exist in this world. If she can, she'd break a sweat and admit defeat, but thanks to the magic he's used, Danyll can't show it. However, Gwayne circles Danyll's frozen figure.

She can feel the blood from the stab wound oozing down her body, staining more of what's left of her linen shirt.

"You think you can outsmart me, Danyll of Ozryn," Gwayne says, stroking her hair behind her ear and stands closely. "But I have you in my hand," He cups his hand near her windpipe and breaks the frozen trance. He tightens his grip around her neck in order to strangle her to death and Danyll, at her lowest point of life, allows Gwayne to continue this torture. Despite leaving him with his duty, she tries to break his fingers out of its grip, however, he tightens it further. Danyll pats at her side weakly and shuts her eyes. She squeaks screams of help in the means of wanting someone — at least _someone_ — to hear her plea. She cries out in pain when she forces Rose out of her wound and grazes deeply into Gwayne's side. He winces in pain, letting go of Danyll's neck. They both take a fall onto the ground, rolling around like children having fun but instead, they're adults and are in pain. As Danyll's on her feet, struggling to keep up with the aching wound that's reopening the past, she pulls her sword to her side and raises it, finally having the chance to stab Gwayne in the chest as he recovers from the stab wound. Someone tugs Danyll out of place and the next thing she knows, she's in Triss's laboratory underneath Folster's castle.

"Danyll!" Triss cries, going up to her side as she almost collapsed.

"I'm fine!" Danyll coughs, standing straight. "I'm fine..." She stands, looking down at her bleeding shirt. " _Fuck_ ,"


	19. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫

* * *

The ordeal that Danyll had endured with Gwayne left her unconscious for the divine to know. She remains asleep, dreaming nothing except for the bitter darkness. Danyll revisits the fractured memories of seeing a fierce-haired maiden in shining armour as if she can lead a whole army on her own. Danyll stands next to that maiden that's sitting on Grand, and Grand doesn't know Danyll is standing there, looking at the maiden, who is an alternate version of herself, guiding and commanding a whole army. Danyll could've been that if it weren't for Vesemir, and she could've been someone really happy and doesn't have to worry much about monsters. Though, at the same time, she knows that she's setting a good example to children that there are the goods and bads being a witcher — the first female witcher, needn't forget.

Suddenly, she experiences her lungs being filled with some sort of smoke that's strangling them. She pats her chest multiple times, attempting to cough out more of the smoke so it cannot harm her. Her eyes are shut from the pain of _heat_ that's threatening her. She falls to the ground, hacking every bit of bitter taste out of her respiratory system, yet it still persists on leaving traces of evil in her. ' _What's happening?_ ' Thinks Danyll, her eyes tearing up despite the eyelids shutting really tightly. ' _Why am I feeling this? Wake up, damn it!_ ' She commands herself, grabbing Rose from her thigh scabbard and stabs herself in the stomach.

Danyll gasps bitter air and coughs violently, her eyes gathering as much information as they can. The building, she is currently in, is on fire and she quickly scrambles onto her feet. She didn't have time for her leather armour and charges out of the room. The long hallway of the inn has been blocked with a large structure of the building fallen to the floor, burning heavily. Since she's in the last room at the end of the hallway, it's easy to recognise that the other guests to have fled the scene as quick as possible. Danyll has to get out of here in order to ensure that the townspeople's safety isn't viciously threatened.

She punches a nearby window in order to find the means of escape and, despite the broken shards of glass still intact on the window frame leaves small space for her to climb out, she does so without caring if she's got a deep cut here and there. She winces when the glass grazes her skin, but she manages to escape and roll down the roof of the inn. A silenced thud for her fall on the ground and she's quick to her feet, recognising anything orange and yellow as _flames_ and the darkest cloud emitting from charcoal buildings as smoke. She looks around, seeing people on fire despite carrying their children and babes who are, too, on fire. Danyll's heart gives in for the sore sight and she runs around to find who's doing this — doing all this _madness_.

She covers her eyes from any blazing flames and she coughs heavily. She should be able to withstand the heat but this is _beyond_ a human's fire. Danyll gasps, realising her deduction when she stands in the courtyard — even the fountain that gives people false wishes is not working once more; wrecked. She stands, watching the flames being produced by someone's good aim. Danyll approaches the figure and her heart weigh heavily each step she takes down the path, only to realise one thing: _Osenne_. Standing beside her is a cloaked figure but his teeth can be seen to be a smirk. Danyll returns her footsteps, running for Grand when Osenne had been informed that the deed is done and before she can even see that Danyll knows who is the source of the fire. Danyll equips her buttocks onto the leather of Grand's saddle and quickly leaves the aflame village.

As Grand gallops down the dirt path, away from the village, Danyll slows the horse down to the side and sighs, sitting on the grass with her head in her hands. She lost her items, of course, except for Rose, which she finds it as a lucky charm for her because everywhere she goes, it follows. While mourning for the loss of Osenne, Danyll feels a sharp pain coursing through her stomach and she grunts slowly. She lifts up her shirt and sees that there are claw marks. She stands in confusion and if she stands too straight, the pain becomes worse — where did these come from? Then, she realises that Rose is not in her hand _but_ in the wounds. She tries to pull it out but it's as if greater inhuman strength is holding it in place. Danyll looks up at Grand, then to her side, where she sees the cloaked figure standing and palm out at the direction of Rose.

The cloaked figure's smile wipes away when something forces him out of place, releasing the tension holding Rose in place. Danyll pulls out bloodied Rose and item falls down to the ground. She trembles, feeling weak for some reason, as witchers rarely grow weak from a stab wound, but someone runs to her, holding her shoulders while Danyll grows _cold_. A woman with frizzy, bouncy hair sits in front of her, holding the bleeding wound. "Danyll, you're going to be fine, alright?" Triss Merigold, Danyll instantly knows her; the temporary sorceress of Temeria. She said with a reassuring nod. "Geralt and I are trying to pull you out of this,"

"G-Geralt," Danyll breathes shakily, shutting her eyes. To her, it feels like it's been years since she's heard that name. "Is he okay?" She asks, trembling.

"Yes, he's healed well from the striga bite," Triss says. "This is just an interpretation of a nightmare; it's not real. You can do this, Danyll. You need to _heal_ ,"

"Gwayne... he struck me with something," Danyll says, feeling fatigued all of a sudden. However, she opens her eyelids and sees that Osenne is standing where Gwayne was, looking disappointed at Danyll's weakness, her vulnerability too. However, she smiles when she senses that Danyll is _too_ weak to fight or have the energy for anything. She _smiles_. "I don't remember this. I... I fled from the village and never looked back. Osenne never... she never..." Danyll struggles to remember words, the wound still bleeding. "Fuck, Triss, I'm... am I dying?"

"No, you're not dying, Danyll," Triss reassures. "This is Osenne trying to torture you. I sensed her presence when Gwayne was standing in the cave. Thankfully, we were able to find you just in time for you to come back and heal. Geralt is beside you, Danyll; don't worry, okay? I am _not_ going to let you die in my sight,"

Danyll looks at Triss, gasping for air subtly. Triss speaks in Elder as she holds the bleeding wound and slowly, she can feel the wound close up. Danyll sighs, feeling a bit better than before — before the realisation of the claw marks. She can remember slightly of how she had gotten the claw marks. She was in an abandoned castle with Geralt, they fought a striga after being told that the Lord had done a stupid curse on Princess Adda and the baby didn't die with her. The baby turned into a striga and _that_ striga gave her marks that aren't healing well.

" _Wake up_ ,"

Danyll's heavy eyelids open slowly. The stirring realisation that she's not in the burning village relieves her. She, instead, is in Triss's laboratory under Folster's castle. She can feel her stomach doing its job in healing as Triss is speaking in Elder to it. Holding her left hand is someone with a calloused one; she tilts her head slowly to the side, seeing a white-mane with pretty amber eyes. He doesn't smile; he's not showing any sort of emotion, but by the touch of their hands, she can feel that he's worried.

"She's healing," Triss whispers to Geralt.

"Good," Geralt says. "I'll be by her side. Make our payment once she's fully recovered,"


	20. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔢𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫

* * *

The next day, Triss brings down food for Geralt, who's been patiently waiting by Danyll's bed as she rests throughout the night. Triss had brought Geralt complimentary food — succulent meat with bread, berries and ale. She places the tray of food on the table next to him and she smiles at him. "You really love her, don't you?" She asks, leaving Geralt in confusion. "While you were resting, she had told me the reason why she developed feelings for you," Triss smiles, stroking Danyll's hair out of place so Geralt can have a good look at Danyll's resting face. Despite having done so before, he hasn't taken in how beautiful she looks and what captivated him when she survived the _Trial of Grasses_ was the fact that she had ruby eyes rather than amber eyes like his or Vesemir's. "I know old nan's tales say that witchers don't have human emotions, but... what if—"

"Enough," Geralt says, still holding Danyll's hand as he subconsciously strokes Danyll's knuckles. "I don't want you to feed her with false hope. A witcher can't fall in love because it's not possible. We _don't_ have human emotions," He says, not looking at Danyll. However, somewhere inside him, he doesn't want to admit that there's a strange feeling growing — blooming like a flower during spring. It happens whenever he sees Danyll copying his mannerisms; the slouched shoulders, the talking, the silence. He squeezes Danyll's hand, enough pressure to not wake her up. Geralt lets go of Danyll's hand in order to eat the food provided for him. "Thank you for the food, Merigold," He simply says in between chews of the succulent meat.

During eating, Triss had gone off to the tailor for some new clothing for Danyll. Geralt eats the berries one by one, looking at Danyll as she rests. Geralt sighs, placing down the berries and elbowing the mattress of the bed and buries his face into his hands. ' _How long more are you going to slumber, Danyll?_ ' He asks in his mind, although he knows very well that she can't hear him. ' _Wake up, damn it._ ' He sighs, resting behind in his chair and the more his stare is on Danyll, the sleepier he gets. Geralt shuts his eyes.

Danyll's eyelids are no longer heavy as if they were prepared for a whole day's slumber. She slowly spirals into the sight of the ceiling of the laboratory, wondering if she's alone in this divine-forsaken room with a honey smell and potions to brew. She slowly sits up, not wanting to hurt her stomach, as she remembers why she's on bed rest in the first place, but surprisingly, after her sleep, she's healed completely. She lifts up her blood-soaked shirt to have a good look of the stomach, frowning, nonetheless, at the scars of the claws. She sighs, pulling down the linen fabric of hers to cover up the battle scars. She's learned to live with them but somehow, the thought of Geralt seeing them makes her self-conscious.

' _Geralt_ ,' She thinks, looking to her sides instinctively. Geralt is leaning against a pillar on his chair, arms crossed and his eyelids shut. ' _How long has he been in that position?_ ' She asks herself, swinging her legs to the side of the bed to put on her boots that have gone cold due to the exposure of icy air and snow from earlier's fit with Gwayne. ' _Maybe I should leave him be. I don't want him to be bothered with my battlements with Osenne and Gwayne. They're my fight, not his_ ,' She recalls, sighing a little and goes over to her scabbard of swords and her thigh scabbard, which she sheathes Rose.

"Where are you going?" Asks Triss, walking into the laboratory silently and her voice low in order to not disturb Geralt while he's asleep. "You should be resting, your wounds—"

"They're healed," Whispers Danyll, lifting her shirt to show Triss. "What did you do? Gwayne... he must've cast a spell for the wound to not heal,"

"Yes, but he cast a spell that stopped your healing capabilities," Triss whispers back, bearing fresh clothes, from the tailor's, in her arms. "It explains why your body couldn't heal in time like Geralt. However, I reversed the cast with the right incantation and with that, your healing returned to normal. It seems that it's left scars, yes?" Triss asks and Danyll nods. "To be frank, you reek of abandoned dust, mouldy water and strong iron. I've gathered some clothes from the tailor's spare; although, it's men size unfortunately because the tailor doesn't cater to feminine figures,"

"I've been raised for masculine clothes, remember?" Danyll chuckles, grabbing the clothes. She walks back to the bed, setting down herself onto the mattress and sighs. In her decades of living, she doesn't expect her days to be so hectic with romantic problems. If Geralt _were_ to fall in love with her, would their departure leave battle scars between them, much like how it is with Osenne? Danyll scoffs. Geralt can never fall in love, neither can she.

Danyll stands up, pulling off her old, dirty shirt and tosses it aside, spreading the new linen shirt that Triss had gifted her with. "You're awake," Says Geralt behind her, still sitting in his position by the column. "How are your wounds?" He asked, standing up and approaching her, one hand against her shoulder. Danyll can't resist a blush painting on her cheeks as he sees her with her exposed bosoms. "It's alright, I've seen them before," Geralt chuckles. Danyll covers her bosoms while allowing him to see the scars. Geralt hums. "You'll get used to it," Geralt reassures. "You've seen my scars, they're the same," Geralt takes a seat on the bed. "Do you still have the scars?"

"Pardon?" Danyll looks at Geralt.

"If I may..." Geralt gestures his hands around her chest. Danyll didn't flinch when he traces his fingers on her soft, pale skin to locate the scars under her breasts. "They're still there," He says, tracing the scars which go from the side to the middle of her right breast. "I still remember you convinced yourself to do it," Geralt hums, clenching his hands on his knees. "It was painful, wasn't it? Not the self-harming part, but the fact that Vesemir manipulated you to defer your entire beauty just for being a witcher. Do you regret it?"

"Being a witcher?" Danyll asks Geralt, who nods as she puts on the shirt. She stands to strip out of her reeking pants. "Like you've said many times, Geralt. Being a witcher wasn't a choice. Vesemir set his mind when he sees potential in someone. If he didn't, he wouldn't have put us through the trials," Danyll pulls on the pants that appear large and a few inches wider than her waist. "Truth be told, Vesemir said I had cheated death the first time when I went through the trials. He said I was weak and hadn't a strong will to live,"

"Vesemir mocks for the betterment of us," Geralt says, humming.

"Vesemir mocked me more," Danyll huffs, placing herself back onto the bed and sits beside Geralt. "The mockeries were cruel and ruthless. I resolved to self-harm, I suppose. He manipulated me into thinking that no female would survive to become a witcher. He didn't blink an eye when I told him that I wanted to be a man, just like him — just like _you_ ," Danyll looks down, breathing shakily as she looks at her wrists, the scars of her cheating death remains a reminder since the day Vesemir brutally manipulated her self-image. "The Divine knows how jealous I was to be you.

Danyll and Geralt look at each other.

"You couldn't have been jealous of me," Geralt says, confused. "We were stripped of human emotions,"

"' _Human emotions_ '," Danyll says, shrugging. "What if we have our own ways of expressing emotions?" What if I can _actually_ fall in love with someone but instead of him or her being a human, it would be a witcher?" She asks, trying to give the logic to Geralt. She smiles a little at the explanation but the thought of the love of her life not loving her back makes her sick to the stomach. "Yet again, who would ever love a broken girl?" She asks, scoffing, pulling the sleeves of her shirt to cover the scars on her wrists.

Geralt blinks with heavy lids. He hesitantly raises his hand to lift Danyll's face tilt it so they can meet eye-to-eye. He looks down her luscious lips; naturally pink, once, and naturally bound to be kissable. He leans in and kisses her, wrapping his arms around her and embracing her close. Danyll is confused but she doesn't deny the kiss.

"Don't be stupid," He says, pulling away. "I'm always here,"


	21. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫

* * *

After sitting in blessed silence for what almost felt like an hour, Geralt decides that it's time to get out of Temeria and continue with their journey to wherever destiny takes them. Geralt didn't notice but when he mentioned 'destiny', although jokingly, Danyll cringed. Being an atheist in the whole Destiny thing is her thing, she can't lie. "I'll see you soon," She said, half an hour ago, to Geralt who bids her farewell when he entered his room. They weren't sharing a room this time because Danyll was under the impression that Geralt was still mad at her for not telling about her previous love affair to him. Unfair of him to misjudge her, but to her, it's water under the bridge.

Danyll walks into her room and shuts the door behind her, reclaiming her memories that went down in this room. Geralt finding her, torso-bare, in a pool of shattered glass. She sighs, crossing her arms subconsciously as she examines the shattered mess that's laid out around a fallen figure. She can't remember exactly how she had blacked out but the good thing is that she didn't get the chance to harm herself (or scarcely) regardless that she can't exactly be entertained about pain like a human being. She sighs, lifting her linen shirt up and traces the scar that Gwayne of Lynette had stabbed her. It's there; still, despite her wishes for it to be just a bad dream and she's on a farm of her own.

Every time she closes her eyes, she opens them with the biggest wish — to be on a farm with a successful butchery business but every time her eyes see light, she's disappointed at the sight. Regardless, as Vesemir's always said to her, ' _A life as a witcher is not a choice; it was chosen_ ', or something along the lines — she can't exactly remember after years of not seeing Vesemir's face. She needn't a reason to face him again, so she pushes away the thoughts and stands up, pushing aside the shards of the mirror to the side so when the housekeeper sees the mess, she won't have to busy or hurt herself grouping them together.

"Danyll," The door to her room opens and Geralt appears with his amber eyes piercing through her ruby eyes and, frankly, through her soul. "Are you read?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow.

Danyll nods. "I just need to wear my armour," She says, pulling on her slim leather armour sets before hooking on her swords' scabbard on her back and Rose's scabbard on her thigh. She looks at Geralt for validation about her upgraded looks and Geralt shrugs. Danyll rolls her eyes and steps towards Geralt but something holds her back. She clenches her hands. "I..." She stutters. "I'm sorry," She says, looking down at the ground, particularly her boots. "I know you're going to ask why but... I'm sorry about Osenne and Gwayne, and this whole... following you — maybe... maybe it's best if we've parted ways once we get to our horses?"

Geralt narrows his eyebrows, humming thoughtfully. "Truthfully, I've favoured your company throughout this misadventure," Geralt shuts the door behind him, walking up to Danyll and places his hands on her hips. "Is this about Gwayne?" He asks. "If so, he won't hurt you if you're with me, do you understand that?" Geralt reassures. Danyll trembles a sigh but it's cut short when Geralt leans in for a smothering kiss, where their tongues tread a measure like they're a match made in Heaven. Geralt pulls away, caressing Danyll's cheek, which she leans into the cold fabric of his glove. "I won't let anyone hurt you, I promise,"

"Osenne, Gwayne... They're going to get into our way. Osenne's reasoning is because she thinks, in her insane mind, that we belong to each other; that we're destined, but I know who she's destined to," Danyll pulls away from Geralt, scoffing. "Gwayne of Lynette — they're a _great_ couple. The greatest of the fucking century, if you ask for my opinion," Danyll sighs, sitting down on the bed and buries her face into her hands. "If... If I hadn't met Osenne, those lives that were so precious wouldn't have met with death; because of me, people are dead, Geralt,"

"And that's a price we witchers have to pay," Geralt slowly takes a seat beside her. "We're not super-humans that can save the entire world from danger. We... make mistakes too," He places a hand on Danyll's knee. "We have been stripped away of human emotions, but we make mistakes just like them. We have a heart but it beats slower; we have a mind but it runs faster. Regardless, we still make mistakes — you can't expect one witcher to save a whole village from the fiery hells,"

"When I knew Osenne was the undoing of a perfect village, I fled," Danyll scoffs, attempting to cry. "Like a cowardice king, I fled. I didn't want to face my demons — I think because when Osenne looked at me in the nightmare interpretation, she saw was inside of me. Fear; the lack of bravery,"

Geralt squeezes Danyll's knee. "We try our hardest and best. Don't belittle yourself over some cunt's chaos," He stands up, holding out one hand for her to take. "You request us to part our ways once we reach our horses, yes?" Geralt asks, making Danyll look at him. She nods. "I reject that. Do you want to know why?" He asks, kneeling down. "Because I want somebody as strong as you to defeat the demons and monsters of this world and when you are ready to defeat Osenne and Gwayne, I will be there by your side. We will call them to the field and fight them hand-to-hand, weapon-to-weapon, and magic-to-magic, if we must. Just know that I promise you, with my serious words, that I _will_ be on the battlefield with you,"

Danyll smiles a little. "Thank you, Geralt of Rivia. Your words warm my slowly beating heart," She chuckles. "I miss this Geralt so much, I can't deny. This Geralt isn't as cold to anyone outside his guild. You know how to calm me down, reassure that the world is not as bad as we think if we have someone by our side," Danyll grabs Geralt's hands and cup them together. "Geralt of Rivia," She exhales. "Will you be my... no, not husband..." She thinks for a moment, then smiles. "Will you be my forged destiny?"

Geralt hums.

"I'll take that as a yes," Danyll chuckles, kissing Geralt on the lips. "We best make our journey back now before our horses will grow chaotic at our disappearances," She stands and opens the door, walking out of her room and towards the stairs that lead downstairs of the inn. As she swings herself out of the threshold of the inn she almost collides with Triss Merigold, who is wearing her cloak. "Madame Merigold, how do I enjoy the pleasure?" Danyll nods, smiling.

Triss chuckles. "I'm heading back to my kingdom now that the princess has been saved, which I have you and Geralt to thank for," She produces a bag with coins in it. "I see that I owe you my coin," She hands it to Danyll, at the same time as Geralt arriving downstairs. "Thank you, Danyll, Geralt; you two are the contradictory imageries of one's tales on witchers. You two have hearts; don't let malice or evil devour it," She hugs Danyll and Geralt before walking off.

"Money's money," Danyll hands the bag of coins to Geralt.

They both proceed to walk when there's a small boy who runs up to Danyll bearing a scroll with a wax seal — at a closer look, there is a snake as its emblem. "Danyll of Ozryn?" He asks quickly to which Danyll nods. "This is an urgent letter, they said. Must read once sent!" Danyll thanks the child for the delivery and she peels off the seal.

"What is it?" Geralt asks as Danyll reads the short paragraph.

Danyll scoffs.  
"Home,"


	22. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶

* * *

Geralt's saddled on Roach and Danyll on Grand.  
They make way down the west of the realm where Danyll's home, Ozryn, is. Despite Vesemir's instruction for them to have a fictional home title, Danyll chose a real because she deserved it — one of the aldermen of Ozryn needed someone's help and, at the time, she was in Ozryn. At first, everyone laughed at the thought of a female witcher but when she defeated bandits single-handedly, he was impressed and had his jaw dropped. Then, Ozryn was in a battle with another kingdom and the alderman suggested that Danyll would fight for Ozryn. Even the king laughed at her face but when she showed her capabilities as a _knightess_ in his army, he was impressed. Too impressed to have given her the title 'of Ozryn'. She had to leave Ozryn, then, for witcher business and told the king that if he were to reach her, it needs to be _strictly_ urgent and is sent with a letter. So far, she hasn't received any urgent letters from him.

Not this time.   
Danyll's received a letter from her boons in Ozryn, requesting for her presence in utter urgency. She'd write a letter in return for her boons since the letter is not from them and, instead, the king himself, she decides not to worry about them.

"If we are to promise to be by each other's side," Geralt says, slowing down Roach. "You should let me take a look at the letter,"

Danyll stops Grand, sighing. "Don't be disappointed when you see it, then," She pulls out the folded letter from her satchel and hands it to Geralt, who thanks her using a nod but his expression gives away great disappointment, as predicted by her. She chuckles. "The ink that's been used in the letter is of magic. Only specific people can see it, which means that this matter is _really_ urgent and only those who are given with this letter can bear the news without illogically thinking of the situation," She grabs the letter from Geralt. "In simpler ways, the king knows who trust and he doesn't know you. Yet,"

Geralt groans, shaking his head while Danyll chuckles. They make way down the road, approaching a village as for camp. They haven't finalised their thoughts in whether they should sleep here at the inn or not, but a drink with ale and food for bread and honey-basted pork would sound divine. So, they approach an inn, descending the saddles and tie the reins of their horses around a wooden post before they excuse themselves from their trustworthy heeds. Everyone doesn't bat an eyelash at their new-coming and, instead, walks around like they're too busy to care about them, which is what Geralt needs for a change if he wants to avoid being called _the Butcher of Blaviken_. They head towards the inn with its big sign saying ' _Roger is Inn!_ ' to which Geralt and Danyll don't respond to the awkward jester.

They walk into the busy inn, where men looking like knights and women of carrying babes, are drinking their ale and eating dry-looking meat. Danyll groans, not up to the absence of succulent meat. Nonetheless, her stomach yearns for something, whichever comes first: dry or moist. Geralt finds a place in the corner of the room to brood like always while Danyll approaches the bar, waving for a barmaid to attend to her.

"Two of your finest ales and some pork, please," She smiles, producing coins for the barmaid who aggressively grabs it. "That table," She points and the barmaid nods and walks off. Danyll approaches the table that Geralt had picked. "They'll bring them in," She says, taking a seat in front of Geralt. Surprisingly, it's next to a window, which she can see outside that it displays children playing with each other, throwing rocks like they are each other's dogs and there is a group of girls with a boy possessing long locks; the girls deciding on braiding his hair. ' _Vesemir took this chance away from you_ ,' Thinks Danyll, sighing. ' _Being a witcher is not a choice — you are chosen for this. This is your..._ ** _destiny_** _,_ '

Their food finally arrives at their table. Geralt grabs his plate and devours the food as if he's famished and in fair speaking, it is true. Danyll slowly pinches away a piece of bread and squeezes a torn piece of pork between it and shoves it into his mouth. Geralt drinks the ale, chugging down the piece and he's done. "Fuck," Geralt sighs, pushing away his plate. "I'm still hungry,"

Danyll pushes her plate towards Geralt. "Thankfully, I've thought it through, hm?" She says, smiling as Geralt devours more. The dish he's eating is actually her's but she feels bad if she were to eat in front of him while he's still hungry. She happily watches him gulp the food. "Must be so delicious that you wanted more, hm?

"It's dry as fuck," Geralt shakes his head. "But the ale is good. Don't you want some?"

Danyll blinks. "It's fine," She drinks her ale. "This place is too crowded. I'm going to go out and see if there are any posters for help while we make camp here," Danyll stands up from the bench and walks out of the inn, approaching the middle of the village where kids are looking at her and instantly want her to play with them. She simply smiles before walking towards the noticeboard that the village has. It's mostly community work that needs help — nothing about monsters or such.

However, as she's focusing on the background, she hears a low growl. She looks at the direction of the forest where growls are coming from. She holds the hilt of Rose and walks down the narrow path leading to the forest. The growl seems to lure her in and draws out Rose quicker than ever, knowing that a werewolf is on the move. However, it is not night-time.

As she manages to be in the middle of the forest, her eyes deceive her opinion. A _direwolf_ is seated on a flattened rock, looking dominant. Its pink eyes seem out of the ordinary, non-human. "Who are you?" She asks.

The creature lays on its stomach and as it growls through the morphing process, it mixes with human grunts; the fur slowly sinks into the skin and the sharp teeth belonging to a mouth slowly becomes smaller and bones cracking makes Danyll's spine tingle in many ways she can't comprehend. Suddenly, on the stone, is a panting human being. 


	23. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶-𝔬𝔫𝔢

* * *

The morphed girl kneels on the rock, seeing as heavily panting throughout the transformation of a direwolf to a human. It sounded painful, in Danyll's opinion, as the sounds of her bones cracking back into humanoid places and the fur that was once dark that even darkness can shadow its colour, is gone into her skin, formatting as her natural body hair. As she's panting, looking up at Danyll, Danyll can register how her head physique is like — her black hair is a length above her shoulders and eyes that are pink, like light roses; somehow Danyll can't believe she's seeing it — _her_ — in real life. Sure, she has seen an abundance of wolves and werewolves along the way, but a _direwolf_ that was once a human and can turn back into his or her original form — that's the rarest of the rare. Danyll takes a step or two forward to inspect the girl, which results in the girl using her quick reflexes to draw out her dagger, producing the steel weapon at the direction of Danyll.

"Take a step further, you whore, and I _won't_ hesitate to tackle you to the ground and pound you into some whorish, minced meat," She growls, mimicking the style of a direwolf in her physical form. As her eyes tighten at the sight of Danyll, she gasps, loosening the grip of her dagger when she sees the emblem of the necklace Danyll's wearing. "You can't be..." She smiles in excitement. " _Danyll of Ozryn_..."

"In the flesh," Danyll draws out her dagger and flips it around, gripping the blade of the dagger in order to produce her identification with the ruby on the hilt — it is, nevertheless, a staple of hers. "You have pink eyes," She hums, sheathing Rose while she approaches the girl on the rock. Upon further examination and up-close distance, she can say that her hair is shoulder-length and she's wearing thick clothing to beat the cold but no armour, and she bears a necklace; she can't exactly see what's on the necklace, but as she can tell, it resembles the shape of a _wolf_. Danyll scoffs. "He did it again,"

The girl sheathes her dagger into her thigh scabbard, sitting on the edge of the rock with a pout. "Am I not living up to what a female witcher should be?" She asks. "In fairness, there was only one in existence when I was training and it happens to be you. We didn't know if you were dead or alive; Vesemir just assumed that you were too busy with a witcher's duty and didn't bother to come back to _Kaer Morhen_ ," She shrugs. "Why didn't you come back there, Danyll?"

Danyll flails her hand, dismissing the question. "Vesemir promised me he won't do it to any girls again," Danyll sighs, taking a seat beside the girl. "He said that if he were to make a girl go through such trials, he will have to face the consequences by _me_ ," She scoffs, rubbing her cold hands together despite them being gloved. "Regardless, I wish to see him in _Kaer Morhen_ once I've done my deed," She smiles, looking at the girl. "I'd ask where did he take you from but Vesemir erases our memories vis-à-vis the _Trials of Grasses_ ,"

"Vis... what?" The girl cocks her head to the side in question.

" _In relation to_ ," Danyll explains.

The girl smiles. "He keeps telling me that I was from a place where _direwolves_ were welcomed like they were kings and queens of the kingdom," She explains about the big question in the room, swinging her legs. "I was born on a full moon, he said. It's how I was blessed by the many gods of the realm of my ability to transform into a direwolf at will," She chuckles. "Oh, _Matildi of Ayfara_ ," She holds out one hand for Danyll to shake.

Danyll hums, shaking her hand. "Don't believe the bullshit Vesemir tells you," She scoffs, looking at the darkness the forest produces. "He's tried many ways to hurt me but it takes a tough girl to fight against him," Danyll smiles with pride, looking up at the moon where she's constantly reminded of the times she'd train in the dark, disobeying the nightly curfew by fighting the air with her wooden sword and tripping on her shoes and falling to the ground. The sight of the moon gives her a good shot at her motivation. Then, she looks at Matildi. "Are you hiding here? Or are there monsters?"

"It's a surprise that none of the villagers knows that _I'm_ a monster," Matildi jokes, descending the rock with her drop silenced by the blankets of snow. "I am with a friend. We were out hunting the monsters that the hunters in the village are scared about when I encountered you," Matildi smiles, rocking herself back and forth using the toe and heel of her boots.

"What were you two hunting?" Danyll asks, sensing danger from the distance. She instantly draws out her steel sword, shushing Matildi before she can even announce the creature until, in the quiet, she hears the silent rhythmic marches of rapid legs and Danyll pushes Matildi out of the way and attempts to stab the creature in the head when she realises that the creature had swerved itself to the right, and holding one firm antenna is a woman that wields a sword. The creature screeches in pain when she slices it at the head, causing the creature to whip her aside. Danyll scrunches her face, looking at the girl with short hair that's the same colour as Danyll's. "Fuck, another one?!" The girl exclaims, shielding herself from the giant centipede's attempt to poison her.

All three girls stand their ground, digging their heels into the snow with their steel swords in hands. "He's weak with silver — any of you've got silver?" Danyll asks the girls, which they nod. Danyll doesn't dare to use silver at this moment since she's saving it for the best for last. So, she tries to dig for oil to drown her steel blade with but she realises she's left her satchel of oils and potions back at Grand. She cusses beneath earshot. She swings at the creature that looks like it's attempting to flee from the _three_ female witchers standing in front of it. Danyll scoffs, jumping on the rock and swirling her body towards the centipede, wrapping her legs around its trunk and pushes her sword into the head and, as it straightens its body to screech out pain, Danyll slides down its body.

Danyll is flung backwards with the creature when a strong gust of wind blows in their way. She chokes on some snow, coughing them out and she stands, staggering towards the girls. She looks behind; the centipede's attempt to escape deems impossible as Danyll pulls out her only silver and throws it directly at its head. It screeches loudly before it dies. Danyll pants, sheathing her steel sword and looks at the girls. "Are you two alright?" She asks, holding Matildi's hand. Danyll looks at the other girl with a pair of furrowed eyebrows. "Vesemir didn't stick to one... did he...?" She sighs.

"Giselle of Hadwise, at your service," Giselle's quick to her knee, bowing as if sovereignty's in front of her. "It's an honour to meet you, Danyll of Ozryn. Vesemir has told us many tales and great adventures about you," She stands, nodding. "When you survived in the woods alone for a week... I can't imagine myself being in that position. Well, not again, of course," She lifts her thick skirt and reveals a large scar of what seems like a tooth sunk into her skin. "A creature got to me before Vesemir was forced to save me,"

Someone clears their throat and Danyll looks to the side. Geralt is standing there, expectedly with an expression that he needs answers. Danyll nods. "Geralt, meet these _female_ witchers; Matildi of Ayfara and Giselle of Hadwis," She introduces them to Geralt before walking up to him. "Thank you for the centipede," She whispers. "I-I thought Vesemir had stopped taking in girls... he promised me..."

Geralt seems to pay no attention as he looks at Matildi thoughtfully. He sheathes his sword and approaches her, who locks eyes. She stands where she is. 


	24. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶-𝔱𝔴𝔬

* * *

_The babe's cry resounded quite loudly throughout the small, quaint village as the mother of such a crying child, who has pushed her well enough for it to pop out of the woman's cunt, pants from the pain and is washed with sudden relief from abdominal pain. The midwife, covered in stains of blood on her dress, her arms and neck, lifts the babe into the sky to thank the Gods for an easy birth. The babe casts a shadow through the moonlight and from that moment, the mother falls in motherly at the sight of her daughter._

_Standing beside the senior midwife are the other midwives who aided her through the process of birth, and running into the room is a child of three years — impatient to see his younger sibling despite the chaotic blood mess spread beneath his mother's dress. He shakes his mother, who possesses auburn hair and eyes of grasses green; the mother hastily presses her shaky hands onto the head of her son's, pulling him down to kiss him gently._

_"Welcome your baby sister,"_

' _Baby sister_ ' echoes in his mind as Geralt opens his amber eyes with suddenness and unprepared solemnity. He grabs something instinctively and that is the sheets he's slept underneath. He looks to his side, noticing that a figure beloved by his cold, bitter heart, is missing and he wonders where she is. He hums, caressing the barely warm spot and inhales what seems like her natural scent. He shuts his eyes and exhales, reaching for the glass on the nightstand, wanting to drink down the scarce of his throat, however, the cup is empty. He groans, putting down the item and swings his legs to the side. His white hair, usually tied behind, falls to the sides of his face and he strokes them back along with accumulated sweat. Then, he proceeds to wear his clothing and boots before grabbing his scabbard and hangs it onto his back.

The night is quiet. Though, he expected that the village would be lively with men drinking until they can't remember fuck all; no, this village is _too_ quiet for that. He hums, following down the path of the inn's hallway and exits the door, noticing that it's night time. ' _Why would Danyll be out at this time?_ ' He thinks while looking up at the sky — a full moon. Geralt glances at the ground below and there are footsteps that have the shoe size of a woman's. He raises an eyebrow, following the path cautiously as it suddenly stopped and substituted with paws. He should've brought his silver sword for this occasion, but he didn't so he'll make down with a steel one. The paw-related path leads up to the forest, where darkness is in yet it's not a disability for him because of his cat-like vision in the night.

He pushes himself through the bushes and branches, ending up on a slope that goes down to a river. Geralt looks down, seeing a darkened creature licking the water that has not managed to be frozen, and he makes his way down the slope with his sword prepared. It's a direwolf, a creature he encounters rarely yet some of them have been in his life for the past few decades. A new witcher can mistake it for a Vukodlak, but to him, he is sure that it is a direwolf. He takes one cautionary step forward, only for the crunch of the snow beneath his booth to trigger the creature's hearing senses and it looks up, looking at him, growling.

The direwolf has a pair of pink eyes, which he recognises but can't exactly put a finger on _where_ he knows it from. His instinct tells him that he's just met those pairs not too long ago, but whose is it? He asks himself with a dire need to satisfy the question. He holds the handle of his sword with the point upward to the full moon, blade gleaming against the steel of the weapon as he circles around the river to successfully take down the creature. However, the creature growls even more and in a tone of self-defense and prowls around the opposite end of the river, sensing hostility from Geralt.

Before Geralt can make another move, he's plunged into the freezing waters of the river. His cheeks puff out as the remaining air is trapped in his mouth. He squints his eyes open, seeing a pair of ruby gems that he knows too well. They don't struggle at all as, instead of attempting to kill him or what not, she swims upwards with one arm around Geralt's neck, shoving him onto the ground before dragging herself upwards beside him. They cough, violently, out all the freezing water that was in their system; Danyll punches her chest multiple times to hack out anything remaining in her freezing lungs.

"What do you think you're doing?" Geralt growls at Danyll, who ruffles her wet, short hair from excess water. "I had that creature in my hands!"

"We're _hunting_ , damn it!" Danyll shuts her eyes, vomiting cold water and the night's dinner, which is buried into the snow. She coughs the bits of the rough chicken she had, wiping away the evidence using her gloved hand. "You decide to _kill_ your fucking sister?!"

Geralt looks at her in confusion.

"That's your _sister_ , you dunce," Danyll sighs, leaning against the blanket of snow and teeters on the edge of her eyes to look at the direwolf, who is standing on its four feet next to Giselle. The direwolf blinks her innocent, pink eyes at Geralt, whose heart has numbed down to consideration that such a creature is actually flesh and blood of his, as the faded dream about having one reminds him. "One of the men in the village thinks they found a pack of Vukodlak in this village's forest. It's why they're here in the first place — to find the proof and, eventually, draw them away from the civilians,"

"We _kill_ Vukodlak. They're freak mutations, forgetful?" Geralt scoffs, standing up. "How can _my_ sister be a direwolf?" He thinks about his words. "Is she even _my_ sister? She can be lying," He scoffs. "Vesemir must've manipulated her thoughts much as he did to you,"

"Excuse me?" Danyll looks at him, furrowing her eyebrows.

"You preach about sadness and despair about what Vesemir did to _you_ ," Geralt speaks, not knowing when to stop and slap himself in the face as he looks at Danyll's face which begins to sour as she sits down, looking at the reflection of herself through the river and the shining moonlight. "Vesemir has _always_ done what's right for us witchers. I don't see Matildi or Giselle hurting themselves because of what Vesemir had said to them. Did _you_ lie to me, Danyll?" Geralt scoffs, although he regrets. "Did you lie to me just for a fucking pity party because you're the _only_ female witcher there is? Because the other male witchers were picking on you for the reason that you have a cunt and were growing breasts?!"

Danyll stands up, her fists clenched tightly. "Geralt, this is not you..." She says, looking up at him with tears developed and streaming down her eyes. Though witchers can't feel human emotions, it seems that Danyll is breaking that image. It _pains_ Geralt to see her this way — like the day he found her with the blade in her room, attempting to cut off what was growing on her chest. "Take it back..." She says, sniffling. Silence. " **Take it back!** " She shouts, a gust of wind blowing around them and Geralt shuts his eyes as the snow hits his face.

Geralt hisses.

"No,"


	25. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶-𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢

* * *

Geralt wakes up in the morn', realising that beside him on the bed is empty, and he's about to spread his arms to stretch out the muscles strained after plunging into a cold night's — especially freezing — water when he notices a figure creating a shadow down his legs. Danyll is sitting there, idle, however, Geralt notices that she has an odd rhythmic breathing pattern that seems like she's running out of breath. She grunts once in a while as she slowly eases up on something down her chest, and Geralt sits up, not wanting to make any noise but by the creak of the bed, it startles Danyll out of her trance. Both of them look at each other in a united expression of surprise; Danyll can't believe that he's already awake and didn't say anything while Geralt is shocked that Danyll's dagger, Rose, is directly under her bosom.

" _What_ are you doing?" Geralt asks, wanting to pull out the dagger and throw it away but Danyll jumps backwards — with a pained expression — to avoid Geralt extracting the device from her chest. "Don't be stupid and take the fucking dagger out of your tit, Danyll!" He tackles her to the ground, pulling out the weapon and throws it across the room that the blade penetrates the wooden surface of the wall, while he pins her arms down to the ground. "What do you think you're doing, Danyll?! Why are you purposely hurting yourself?!" He asks, quite unsure for his heart to go restless. However, he remembers the occurrence in the previous night, where he had said things that he didn't want to — like someone was controlling his mind. "I... I'm sorry about what I said,"

Danyll's eyes soften to the words. "You said it. It doesn't make a difference because it's _true_ ," She sighs, pushing Geralt off and brings her knees to her chest with one wounded breast that's bound to heal in a matter of minutes or hours. She digs her chin onto her knee, looking at a random table with uncertainty. "I always saw Vesemir as a father figure and you as the best boon of mine. It was a raising conflict when Vesemir found out that I didn't cut out my breasts because I had a secondary consciousness that stopped me from doing so,"

"Vesemir has hurt you in many ways, much like how he had done to us and the other witchers in the world," Geralt crosses his legs, placing his hands onto his knees and looks at Danyll. "We always _return_ to this topic, Danyll — about you and Vesemir, and your self-harming tendencies. It..." He struggles for a moment. " _Pains_ me to see that you're self-loathing and suffering in silence, so I do not want you to go through this. Not alone,"

"I'm not," Danyll shakes her head, looking at Geralt. "He's done the same thing to the girls. To your sister that you reject her presence in your heart," Danyll runs her fingers through her short hair, sighing. "Vesemir _may_ be many things by manipulation and heart, but he is no liar, Geralt. If Matildi _is_ your sister, then she is," Geralt's about to groan in denial, however, Danyll grabs his hand and places it on her cheek. "You and I know Vesemir well — we've trained with him personally when he took us under his wing. We've survived the trials, fought monsters and learnt from the best,"

Geralt's eyelashes lower. "Where are they?" He asks. "Matildi and Giselle,"

"They are resting. Matildi needs extra rest due to her transformation," Danyll releases the grip of his hand and stands up, touching the wound and hissing at the slightest touch and watches the blood ooze down her finger. She grabs a cloth to wrap it around her chest and she can finally breathe easily. "You shall stay here and watch them both until I return. My business in Ozryn is not settled yet. My presence is urgently needed,"

"What?" Geralt stands, furrowing his eyebrows. "We are going to Ozryn _together_ ,"

"Matildi needs her older brother to look after her," Danyll walks to the table where their leather armours are laid out. She pulls out hers and begins to wear it, ensuring that it wouldn't slip off the moment she saddles onto Grand and makes her way to Ozryn. "Ozryn is a dangerous place for girls like her. There are rapists and gamblers. It is why Ozryn is declared as a kingdom of bad luck,"

"And how did _you_ survive it?" Geralt scoffs. "We promised that we wouldn't separate from each other. What happened to the promise, Danyll? That you confessed your love to me and asked if I could be your forever destiny — what happened to _that_? Was that all a ruse for me to not leave your side because you are just a lonely, scared little girl that has a father-figure issue?" Geralt marches over to the table and puts on his set of armour. "I am _not_ letting you go to Ozryn on your own. If it means that I have to bring Giselle and Matildi, then that is my decision,"

Danyll looks lengthily at Geralt as if he's gone mad for even taking up this task to follow her. Although, they've come this far and ditching him with a pair of girls they barely met seems awkward, and Geralt _does_ care about the well-being of Danyll. She subtly smiles, shaking her head. ' _I've learnt from the best,_ ' She thinks while leaving the room with Geralt on her tail and they walk up to Matildi and Giselle's door. The door swings open and Giselle's face shows; pale like a cow's milk and her hair is tied into a ponytail so the strands won't, at all, be in her face. "Are you guys good with heights?" She asks, to which Giselle passes a glance at the faint Matildi on the bed. "Would you like to follow us to Ozryn?"

"Ozryn is a real place?" Asks Giselle, surprised. Danyll nods, smiling. "Matilidi's resting, however... and my horse can only fit one person. Well, she travelled with me through the woods as her direwolf form..."

Geralt rolls his eyes, knowing that that is _some_ lazy answer to not help a friend out. Nonetheless, he speaks, "She can ride with me,"

Giselle nods. The door shuts momentarily and there are loud shuffling sounds coming from the inside, and the two older witchers stand outside patiently, waiting for the young ones to prepare themselves for the upcoming journey. The door finally opens and Giselle is helping Matildi walk with her arm around Giselle' shoulders. "She is still quite weak. Nonetheless, I will guide her outside,"

They walk out of the inn casually. Their rooms have been paid by Danyll and she leaves with the rest, walking towards the wooden post that holds Geralt's Roach and Danyll's Grand. Geralt saddles himself first before carrying weak-Matildi onto the saddle, correcting her position in front of him where he can ride and let her rest against him throughout the journey. Before Danyll can get onto Grand, Giselle stops Danyll.

"What happened to you?" She asks, pointing at the blood soaking through her shirt and dripping down onto the snow. "Are you okay?"

"Fuck," Danyll cusses, punching her chest to numb the pain and possibly stop the bleeding. She must've not tightened the cloth much to stop the bleeding entirely. "Yes, I'm fine," She lies, feeling a stinging pain as she punches her chest once more for safety measures. "Get on your horse. We best leave now because Ozryn's a journey to the top of the mountain," Danyll sits on her saddle and controls the reins of Grand, looking at Geralt, who nods, and Giselle, who is still attempting to coach her horse to follow her commands.

"Don't you mean to the edge of the world?" Asks Giselle.

"We've been there — trust me, Posada is _very_ different than Ozryn," Danyll scoffs, beginning to guide the party towards the direction of where she _knows_ Ozryn is. "We also met a rather annoying bard that keeps singing about Geralt's adventures and not mine,"

"He likes you," Geralt taunts.

"He does now, does he?" Danyll rolls her eyes. "What knowledge do you have of feelings, Geralt? You preach that witchers don't feel human emotions yet, you say as if _you_ know that that damned bard likes me pretty well," Danyll taunts back while Geralt smiles.

" _Shut up_ ,"


	26. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶-𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔯

* * *

Danyll leads Geralt on Roach and Giselle on Wind, her horse, through the forests that gradually become an entity of spring; flowers growing everywhere and fauna can be watched running around freely in their shape and form. Danyll doesn't bother to hunt anything as they've been gifted with rabbit and pork meat from the village they were in before because they successfully hunted the Vukodlak. They've set up a camp off the path with Matildi resting against a bed of Giselle's satchel and a blanket over her, while Danyll is twisting the wood that penetrates the dead rabbit's body and the first slowly roasts the meat and skin.

Giselle is off for a river not too far from camp so she can retrieve water for the four of them. Geralt is sitting on a log across Danyll, who minds her own business for their lunch. Less of a farther mile lies Ozryn, a place Danyll can recoil to call it 'home' from the bad memories she's spent in there. However, in order to even arrive there, it is going to take a few more hours by horse feet if they're planning to make it before dusk. Geralt picks off a leg of the cooking rabbit and uses his bare teeth to bite into the half-cooked flesh and gnaws onto it, juice spilling down his lips.

Danyll chuckles at the sloppiness Geralt's chewing, however, she stops cooking the rabbit when she hears crunching of leaves. Instead of a pair of feet, which she expects for it to be a return of Giselle's, it's followed by another pair. Geralt looks at Danyll with wariness as he notices Danyll holding the hilt of her dagger. He lets go of the piece of rabbit and holds the hilt of his sword; both of them stand in unison with their weapons drawn out and each point the sharp tips at the approach of Giselle, who has her hands up in the air.

"Put down your weapons," A voice recognisable to Danyll speaks. Danyll squints her eyes, trusting the voice instantly and seals in her dagger. She nods to Geralt to do the same, which he does it hesitantly. "State your business on the borders of Ozryn," The person, cloaked, says, holding a dagger of his own against Giselle's throat. She gulps, which her throat has a second lump that touches the edge of the dagger. "If you don't comply with my words, I will personally send you to the King's quarters and let him watch your execution. Understand? So, tell me who you are and I will see if you're able to be sent it. Of course, if you've not been killed by me,"

Danyll hums, thinking if she were to reach in her satchel for the letter that the little boy in Temeria had given her, would suffice as evidence that her presence is urgently needed — no one will get hurt. However, Danyll takes a step front. " _My friend_ ," She says in a language unknown to Geralt and only those who've lived in Ozryn for far long can understand. " _I am Danyll of Ozryn. The King's requested that I must be seen at once. I retrieved a personal letter from him too,_ " She watches the cloaked figure relaxes yet questioning. Something tells Danyll that the cloaked figure is questioning Danyll's voice. Danyll reaches for her satchel but the unknown person presses further against Giselle's throat. " _Do not fret, my friend. We are no danger to Ozryn and we don't threaten the throne. If you need proof if I were the witcher who saved your king —_ our _king — I can show,_ "

She turns around slowly, removing her leather armour and lifts up her shirt, revealing a burn-mark down by a blacksmith. It's on her side, just a few inches away from the healing wound of her bosom. It is in the shape of a skull with a tale-told serpent basilisk crawling out of the mouth and eyes, creating an infinity sign. " _King Isaiah permitted that I earned this symbol of peace and strength to show that Ozryn is under a witcher's protection_ ," She pulls down her shirt and turns around to Giselle, who has been let go from the cloaked figure. Instead of holding the dagger, they have sealed it in and pulled up their shirt to show the same mark. Danyll smiles coyly, knowing that her hunch is right. " _Are you a thief?_ " She approaches the cloaked being and pulls down the hood to reveal a woman with gingerly hair and tanned skin. "Or a queen?"

"Danyll,"

"Snow," Danyll nods. "It is good to see you again. I assume that your business is going well?" She asks, pulling Giselle to her side and Geralt looks at them with a confused expression.

"It's been... _different_ ," Haley Snow says as Danyll sits back on the log and pulls out a fully roasted rabbit leg and bite into it. "The King... he requested for _our_ help because the mag that was appointed by the Brotherhood had gone missing," She takes a seat beside Geralt while Giselle takes a seat beside the first female witcher, a little shaken from the aggressive approach of Haley's. "I told him, ' _We're merely thieves, your majesty, how can we assist in such task to find someone above us?_ ' and he said, ' _Thieves are the finest creatures. Like a squirrel — you can climb and find people with keen eyes_ ',"

"And?"

"And?" Haley cocks an eyebrow.

"Did you find the mage?" Geralt asks.

"Indeed," Haley nods. "We found her not too far from Ozryn. _Dead._ Dismembered and was missing a heart. 'Tis why we advised the King to call his right-hand man," Haley looks Geralt, who then looks at Danyll, who casually chews on the meat. "Or should I say, _woman_? The King is frightened for his life and his daughter's. He has a son for a babe. People speculate that he has been cursed to be a direwolf because he was born on a full moon," Everyone, except for Haley, looks at each other before glancing at resting Matildi. "Nonetheless, you are here because you received the letter, right? And... you brought your own entourage,"

Danyll scoffs. "I insisted we parted ways, yet this man and these two girls are _quite_ the stubborn nailheads they are," Danyll puts out the fire and discards the remaining bones of the rabbit aside. "We shall take rest in an inn in Ozryn before I seek the King's presence," She gets up. "Why are you down here, Snow? Aren't the thieves always the ones that scour the borders of Ozryn? This is... _too_ far from the border,"

Haley's face morphs into fear. "Not too long ago, we were under attack. The kingdom has become stricture and my men left injured. I am forced to protect Ozryn with the King's guards. Day and night, I lust for sleep yet it is not satisfying when we are always on the edge of fear. The Ozryn you knew and left before, is gone," Haley stands and pulls up her hood, hand on the hilt of her dagger. "At the inn, you will find Daphne with the new mage that the Brotherhood had dispatched for this kingdom; her name is Alondra."

Danyll and Haley cups each other's elbows and nod. Giselle hops onto Wind while Geralt comforts himself on Roach and Danyll helps Matildi onto Grand. Danyll tells Geralt and Giselle to go up the hill that leads to the borders of the kingdom. She looks at Haley. " _How bad is it?_ " Danyll asks in Ozryn's mother tongue, frowning. " _How bad is the damage that the King didn't think of seeking out help from the witcher who swore an oath to protect his kingdom?_ "

Haley blinks her eyes.

" _You will see the damage it has not only on the kingdom but the people too_ ," Haley looks at the dirt path. " _The new mage says that there is an entity that controls everything, however, we are unsure. Only you can tell, isn't it? Because she said that you've dealt with them before_ ,"

" _'Them'?_ "


	27. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶-𝔣𝔦𝔳𝔢

* * *

Geralt arrives at the top of the hill, where the _actual_ borders of the kingdom are. Giselle follows second and Danyll's last. Roach and Wind part for Danyll and Grand to make their way to the centre, which Danyll inhales sharply. "Welcome to Ozryn, everyone," Danyll greets, surprised that the place isn't darkened by the clouds or trees wilted, those like in the fairy tales of dark magic and witches. Ozryn is not for the faint of heart, of course, but Danyll had brought her's into the belly of the beast and she came out stronger and more confident than ever. Did Vesemir put that in her? Maybe — she can't exactly know.

The air," Giselle sniffs, squinting her eyes.

"Dead bodies and sinful sex, yes," Danyll strokes Grand's mane.

"No," Geralt hums. "It smells like... lilac and... apple pie,"

Danyll looks at both of them weirdly, then realising that their eyelids grow heavy as they slowly fall to the side and thumped upon crashing. Matildi wakes up slowly because of the resounding impact. "What happened?" She asks, pulling herself down from Grand and sniffs the air. "What's that disgusting smell?" She asks, tiredly as she yawns and rubs out the fatigue from her pink orbs. "W-Why did they pass out?" Matildi looks at Giselle, hurrying to her side and notices that her brother's down too. She slides to his side, shaking him. Nonetheless, it doesn't wake him up so she looks at Danyll. "What happened?!"

"Well, well, well," Someone speaks, juggling rocks in his hands as Danyll and Matildi pursue their daggers. "Look who's coming back after all these time of ditching us in the fuckin' dirt," Growling beneath his voice, it is another witcher with white hair and amber eyes, much like Geralt. "The King doesn't need your presence here in Ozryn. You're only a disgrace to the next of kin. What does he even see in you? Just a pregnant, hormonal bitch. How a female witcher can get pregnant is a mystery, but again, you are _not_ welcomed here," He throws one rock at Danyll and she swings at the rock to the right. "Reflexes are quick, I like," He smirks.

"Who did you ask to put my friends down to sleep, Dauid?" Danyll asks, holding the reins of Grand tightly. "Of course I know who you are. A fuckin' bard sings about you while I was up at the Edge of the world, debating against Filavandrel if he were to spare him his life or not. Of course, he broke his precious lute but who gives a damned fuck?" Danyll scoffs. "You don't take it as a bear for someone being called as _the Bear of Berengier_ , much like how Geralt and I here are the butchers of Blaviken. What did _you_ do? Fucked a bear to get your ass hairy?"

"How foul-mouthed you are," Dauid smiles. "Of _course_ that's why Geralt fell for you and go you pregnant. Aren't you going to ask why my clan and I are here and _you're_ not?"

"You must be stupid." Matildi snorts. "We're _all_ here, can't you see that? Or do you have rocks for brains?"

"Fuck you, you wench," Dauid spits on the ground near Matildi, who yelps and jumps away from the spit.

Danyll scoffs. "If you must know, the King, himself, has ordered for my urgent presence. The Queen of the Thieves of Ozryn had briefed me on why he needed to do so in the first place. You are a secondhand chain of witchers who are scarcely new to this game and to _think_ that you're noble enough just because you have a title that brings you honour? It's pathetic," Danyll scoffs. "Berengier is like Nilfgaard; they fuck anyone and anything that they can until they die, and you should be ashamed to your grave that you have Berengier for a title — Vesemir would agree. So, fucking _please_ ," Danyll says, smiling. "Let me through and I'll be by your way,"

Dauid growls and nods to his men to open up the gate.

Danyll looks at Matildi, who has settled herself on Roach. Danyll speaks in Elder as the temporary curse lifts, and Geralt and Giselle are quick to their knees, asking what happened to them. Giselle shakes her head and rides on Wind while Geralt saddles onto Roach. They make way through the gates and see the shelters and shops that are opened for the thousands, of the kingdom of Ozryn.

"We may settle ourselves at my property," She nods at Geralt, who follows. Giselle, Matildi and Geralt follow Danyll in her trail up to the very corner of the kingdom, where there is a lavish-looking house that's made of stone and wood that's been finished with style. Next to it is a horse stable. Danyll slides down Grand and opens the gates, allowing Geralt's and Giselle's horses to go in before tugging Grand along. They tie their reins on a post and Danyll lay batches of hays in front of them. "Come," She hops over a fence and ascends a flight of stairs, knocking on the wooden door.

The door instantly opens.

"My... _Dany_?" An old-looking woman almost drops her basket of vegetables, when Danyll captures it in time with her quick reflexes. The woman hugs Danyll tightly and the ruby-eyed lady chuckles, rubbing the old woman's back. "Dany, I didn't know you'd come home! Come, come in!" The old invites Danyll and her entourage into the home, where it's lavish with gold and nice things, like collectables all around the world. "We've missed you so much... it's been two decades since you visited us..."

"Apparently, she's pregnant," Matildi jokes.

" _What?_ " Geralt and the old lady exclaim surprised indeed.

Danyll shakes her head. "Grandma Poppy, can my friends and I stay in two rooms for a few nights?" She asks, holding Grandma Poppy's hands. "The King needs my urgent presence. We've just arrived but I trust you well enough that you'd treat my friends like your family," She brings Grandma Poppy's hands up and kisses her hands, smiling. "I will be back by dinner, I promise. Then, you can tell me all the adventures you've done so far throughout Ozryn," She hugs Grandma Poppy and heads for the door. "Also, Ozryn has changed, hasn't it?"

Grandma Poppy sighs and nods. Danyll sees the instant change of expression in her face yet pays no attention in bringing it up like a flower. She leaves the house, jogging down the stairs and walks down the path that leads to the King's castle. As she walks, she can feel a pair of eyes eyeing behind her and she stops, whipping out Rose as she turns and the dagger's edge is against Geralt's throat.

"Geralt," Danyll exhales. "What are you doing here?"

"You're _pregnant_?" Geralt blinks. "That is impossible. Witchers are incapable of reproducing,"

Danyll sighs. "She meant it as a jest, Geralt," She shakes her head and walks off towards the castle. "The men that knocked you out had told me I was pregnant as a joke, and Matildi wasn't affected by the spell so she heard what he told me. We're _both_ incapable of bearing a child within us,"

Geralt sighs, nodding, thinking that he's just overreacting to all of this. He continues to follow Danyll towards the castle, despite her pleas for him to return to the property she truly calls 'home', but Geralt is stubborn and he insists on following her. Once they arrive, Danyll hands over the letter to one of the guards and he brings them up to the King's library, where he is. He opens the door once the King gives permission and Danyll and Geralt walks in.

"Like the doves, you are fast to reach," The King smiles with his beard inches away from his face. "Danyll, it's good to see you again,"

" _Father_ ,"


	28. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶-𝔰𝔦𝔵

* * *

" _Father_?" Geralt asks.

"I am her father," The King says, smiling. "I am King Tebaud Wymare. I rule this... _lovely_ kingdom," He shuts his book and slides it into the shelf, then looking at the open window that leads to a balcony, where it sees the kingdom that seems so small from this height. He hums, hands cupped behind him as he mesmerises his thoughts with the beauty of his changed county. "I'm glad that you're home, Danyll. I have a job for you, it'll earn a new reputation throughout the realms you'll travel — Rawbone of Ozryn. What do you think? Does it sound good and refreshing?" He smiles, looking back at Danyll, who maintains an uninterested expression to the thought.

"Danyll of Ozryn suffices," Danyll says, sitting on an ottoman with her legs spread. "Let alone a _Butcher of Blaviken_ ," She shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose — as if the ache in her head's already enough, her father wants to worsen it with his failing attempt of reeling her into this deceitful plan. "I got the letter and sought to you as fast as I could. My friends and I will stay for one night if this is just a false call. Even so, it's nice to meet Grandma Poppy again,"

"How is she? She hasn't come to the castle to cook me her famous beef stew," King Tebaud says, smiling. "Regardless, my words on the letter are true. It is an urgent meeting," King Tebaud's expression becomes solemn. He clears his throat, walking up to Danyll. "I've consulted the Thieves of Ozryn and they became my monkeys for a while; when they realise that Ozryn is in _grave_ danger, they instantly recommended me that I should call Ozryn's eternal protector," King Tebaud says, smiling. "Erephere means to war against Ozryn because they think that our kingdom is as weak as Nilfgaard, and they've sent heads on silver plates of our best men as a message that this 'war' is to come close,"

"What did you do?" Danyll groans, burying her face in her hands.

"I did nothing!" King Tebaud takes offence.

"A King to be sent with heads of silver plates and compared to a weak country _is_ something," Geralt replies for Danyll. He takes a seat beside Danyll, who shakes her head and looks at her father. "You did something to have caused rage in Erephere. Your daughter to help you and I know that denying is a rather unintelligent move for you as a king. You so-call claim her as Ozryn's protector, so if you _dare_ cover any bits and pieces to help her with your fragile mind," Geralt stands, biting hard as he comes close to King Tebaud, who blinks at Geralt's words. "You'll be wasting _everyone's_ time." He turns around and looks at Danyll. "Come on, your father is just a coward who can't take care of his own people,"

King Tebaud growls. "How _dare_ you speak to a king like this — blaming _me_ for something I've done for many years? Danyll, what do you even _see_ in this man? I disapprove of him! Out, out you go, I say!" He attempts to push Geralt, but Geralt's body is stubborn like a nail. I don't want you to manipulate my daughter from your malevolent thoughts."

"Just fucking tell me what is the issue here!" Danyll shouts; everything in the room quakes, mimicking the Earth-shaking. Geralt looks at Danyll with a pair of worried eyes while King Tebaud is frightened. Danyll breathes heavily and sighs. "Right, much better," She growls, walking over to the fireplace that's dead. "Ozryn, for many years, has been a place where bad luck happens. It's lucky enough that no one hasn't painted a target on you, however, that's happened. What did you do to anger the king of Erephere?" She looks at King Tebaud through her peripheral vision.

"It's not me, I swear," King Tebaud says. "A bard came to my feast one day and I invited all boons, including the king of Erephere, and he sang a song about the White Wolf," He looks at Geralt with a horrid face. "Then, he explained how the White Wolf had a... _friend_. He described you and I instantly knew who it was. The king Erephere, King Hurrey Rainerius, thought that bedding a Witcher would be good for a reputation of his. He consulted me to give your hand for marriage to him, and when I said no, he left," King Tebaud shakes his head. "Oh, but he _saw_ my words were a threat when it wasn't. He claimed war and sent his army to kill babes and children of Ozryn..."

Danyll's hand clenches.

"Disgusting pig," Danyll exhales. "This bard, is he still in Ozryn?"

King Tebaud nods.

Danyll marches out of King Tebaud's library, walking down the grand staircase and leaves through the doors. Geralt catches up with her, gripping her arm as they walk and it slows them down. " _What_ do you think you're doing?" Geralt asks.

"See if this _bard_ is as stupid as he thinks to just sing about you and me," She says, deciding to go to the first place that comes to mind. A famous inn where bards and other kinds of performers are welcomed to sing or perform their woes away. Danyll walks up to the inn, pushing men aside and at the threshold, she kicks the door down. Light comes in of the darkness; everyone looks at her with a horrid face. They begin to murmur in response to Danyll's _grand_ entrance. "Where is that fucking bard?!"

Everyone stands up and points at a corner, where she and Geralt see the bard cowering with his brand new lute. Danyll blinks. She mutters something multiple times, unable to comprehend any words but a loud, thunderous ' **FUCK** ' as she kicks stools around and flips tables where drinks are fallen down. " _You_ ," She growls, walking up to him and shoves him to the wall. "Will be the _death_ of me," She grits her teeth, slamming him once more against the wall. "Why is it that every time I turn my head around, it's either I hear your _pathetic_ voice or your song about the White Wolf?!"

"The last time we met, you don't know my name. Hello, I'm Jaskier," He smiles coyly but Danyll can smell the fear from his natural musk. Danyll slams his figure against the wall once more. "Ow! What do you want from me?! I don't have money! I only have bread!... in my... pants... which I shouldn't have confessed..." He smiles shakily. "P-Please put me down before I piss my pants...?"

"Because of _your_ stupid, ignorant and egotistic rock of a brain, Ozryn is in the midst of a war with Erephere!" She lets him go, turning around and punches him square in the nose. Around them, people are whispering about this 'war' she spoke about. "Fuck off to another kingdom and fuck those stupid, idiotic whores that are at your calibre!"

Geralt sighs, holding Danyll's arm. "Calm down," He advises.

"I _can't_!" Danyll screams, pushing Geralt away. She looks around, seeing the damage she's done for announcing such news to the people of Ozryn. "My father — your precious King Tebaud — had just given his daughter's hand for _marriage_ because of this stupid _bard_ ," She looks at Geralt. "What do you want me to do, Geralt?! Sit around, fancy this dictator and _not_ be pissed? That's fucking impossible!" She shoves Geralt and turns to Jaskier. "Get out of this kingdom. Don't turn back. If you do, your blood will be in my hands and I'll eat your flesh without second thoughts."


	29. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶-𝔰𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫

* * *

Grandma Poppy has cooked her famous beef stew for everyone by the time Geralt and Danyll return to her abode. Grandma Poppy does what she does when there's a guest or the return of her 'children' — kissing the cheeks of Danyll's and Geralt's, although he feels weirded out by it. She gives wooden bowls to them and spoons, and uses a ladle to scoop the beef stew into their bowls.

"Eat up," Grandma Poppy says, smiling. "It'll be good for your health,"

"Thank you," Geralt takes a seat by Matildi, who is chowing down the beef stew like a famished dog and holds out the bowl. "You eat like a dog," Geralt scoffs, shaking his head as he sips the warm soup.

"You eat like an old lady," Matildi snorts, looking at Grandma Poppy who clears her throat. "Um... no offence," She blushes as Grandma Poppy, Giselle and Danyll give out a hearty chuckle. Somehow, Danyll misses moments like these whenever she's here with Grandma Poppy's children and grandchildren — they are the happiest people to Grandma Poppy, and it's evident since they come from Grandma Poppy's genetics. "So, Grandma Poppy, how _did_ you meet Danyll? Well, aside from her being the ultimate saviour of Ozryn," She bites into the beef meat like a cannibal — hungry like the wolf, _literally_.

Grandma Poppy has her own beef stew in her bowl and she sits at the end of the table, swirling the stew using a spoon. "Danyll was a stray in the kingdom, of course. She mixed with a bad crowd at first, especially the _Thieves of Ozryn_ ," She chuckles, shaking her head. "Danyll lost quite the amount of coins to Gwent and she was moving from stables to stables like a homeless with her horse, and of course, she slept in _my_ stable," She eyes at Danyll, who clears her throat. "I offered her a place to stay in my home and when she settled in, the kingdom was at the brink of war,"

"Is that what you mean by bad luck?" Giselle asks, sipping the stew. Danyll shrugs, biting the vegetables incorporated with the stew.

"The king — Tebaud Wymare — sought the first witcher that was said to be cunning in war plans," Grandma Poppy continues, and Giselle and Matildi look at Geralt instantly, though he shakes his head in silence. "However, the first witcher he sought for betrayed him by selling military information to the enemy — an undercover spy. Then, I brought Danyll to the king. At first, he laughed at the thought of a lady — a witcher at best — handling these kinds of information, let alone fight in a war, but when she proved him wrong by _almost_ cutting off the man's balls, he found her reliable," She sips her water. "She fought with him in the war against the enemies, and she won it for him. Hence, she's been titled _Danyll of Ozryn_ ,"

"You're destined to be an Ozrynian," Giselle smiles.

Danyll rolls her eyes. "Don't refer to them like that — they'll have your tongue cut out for degrading them that way," She chuckles. "Frankly, I didn't want to step into this place. It felt... wrong," Danyll showers her throat with lukewarm water and wipes the corner of her lips using the back of her hand. "As I said, it's bad luck. If you are a four-leaf clover, you walk into this place and you come out as a damnable human being at best,"

"At best?" Matildi raises an eyebrow.

"Ozryn lurks with sorcerers and mages that had been banned from their kingdoms," Grandma Poppy explains, finishing her stew. "The Brotherhood doesn't dare defame their reputation by sending them to Nilfgaard, so they send them here. Ozryn," She smiles at Danyll and holds her hand, squeezing it. She looks outside of the window and sees that it's the peak of sunset. "Ah, the yellow light starts to stare at the horizon. Do you wish to see your friends, Danyll?" She asks, smiling.

Danyll's eyes light up. "I've come across Haley, but I know none of the rest if they still reside in Ozryn or are guarding the lower borders. If the King were to hire them for spies of Erephere, then they might've fled the kingdom, don't you think?" She pouts, not confident in thinking that her best boons would be around.

"Oh, they're still here," Says Grandma Poppy. "Why don't you bring Geralt and your friends to meet the notorious _Thieves of Ozryn_?" She says the title with the mother language of Ozryn, leaving Matildi and the rest in confusion. Danyll nods and picks up all the bowls and cups before setting them in a sink in the kitchen. "Leave them be," Grandma Poppy says as she lifts herself up from the chair. "I'll do the washing. You go drink until your piss turns brown,"

Geralt and Danyll avoid the inn that she stalked for Jaskier. Instead, they head for Ozryn's Inn, which is filled with people who sound drunk to the core. "These friends of yours... are they witchers?" Geralt asks, standing on the threshold of the inn as he looks around to see if there are any familiar faces he recognises from the trials and such under Vesemir's care.

"Common thieves, they are," Danyll chuckles, drawing out her dagger and plays with the tip of it. "Watch me," She says, strutting into the inn and pushes a chair and stabs Rose onto the surface of a table. All the cheers and happiness soon disappear as everyone looks at Danyll. " _I am Danyll of Ozryn_ ," She speaks in the mother language. " _I've served by King Tebaud in a war that had saved your cowardice asses. I am here to look for people — people you may know as the_ Thieves of Ozryn _,_ "

" _What brings you to know about them?_ " A female with dark brown hair walks up, speaking smoothly of the mother tongue with a charming accent. She smiles, approaching Danyll with a plate of pickled meat and bread. " _I am Alondra Greene, the mage that serves the_ Thieves of Ozryn _and the kingdom's mage_ ," She pulls one hand from Danyll and places the plate on her palm. " _If you must know, the_ Queens of the Thieves _are out on border guarding. What we have left is of the thieves and you may see them as you wish,_ "

Danyll smiles, placing down the plate and seals in Rose. Appearing from the stairs are tall men with fine clothing that shows that they are nicely funded peasants — or _thieves_. "Danyll!" Cries Darryl Fields, who is a tad bit shorter than the rest. He runs up to Danyll and envelopes her in an embrace. "I didn't know you'd come back!"

"Alondra was the one who sent the letter to her, don't pretend you didn't know," Jeremiah Duncan rolls his eyes before turning to Danyll with a bright smile on his face. "It's good to see you again, Danyll. How long has it been?"

"Too long, I'm afraid," Leonel Brandt speaks, shaking hands with Danyll. He turns to Geralt, humming. "This must be the White Wolf that Jaskier has been singing to us non-stop. You must be her companion,"

"Her _partner_ , actually," Geralt says.

They make eye contact.


	30. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶-𝔢𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱

* * *

Geralt, Giselle and Matildi take the chance of getting to know the _Thieves of Ozryn_ , while Danyll is with an ale in a cup in hand, sitting in the corner of the room, all alone. The sight of thieves drains all her energy to be charismatic for the night, especially after what went down with her and Jaskier earlier. She can't get the itching feeling off about the whole atmosphere as if something crawled up someone's ass and died from the horrible stench and shit that's in it.

Danyll sighs, sipping her ale, blinking her eyes when Sorceress Alondra takes a seat across from Danyll. She smiles, holding a piece of bread that suffices her tiny stomach that manages to fit through the corset that's tight around her waist. ' _How does she survive through_ that _hell?_ ' Danyll hums, toasting her ale to the appearance of Alondra.

"You are disturbed," Alondra says. Danyll's fist clenches underneath the table, holding onto her knee tightly. "Something is bothering you. Something... no, _someone_. It can't be Geralt; you love him too much to be angry at him — whatever he's said is water under the bridge," She nibbles on the piece of bread she's holding. "Wait, I know who you're thinking about..." Her jaw grinds the piece slowly.

"You fucking sorceresses were trained to read people's minds without their permission?" Danyll's harsh whisper can scarcely be heard by anyone except Alondra. "Is what they teach at Aretuza? How to invade someone's fucking privacy? My thoughts are mine, _mage_. Haley trusted the wrong one to bring onto her team, let alone King Tebaud trusting the kinds of _you_ ,"

"So, you're _jealous_ of a mage being the advisor of a king?" Alondra asks, tearing a piece of her bread. "You think that witchers should be more respected for their roles because they've been gifted with the scarce amount of magic that _we_ have and the ability to protect anyone and, of course, you age like a fine cheese," Alondra chuckles, dusting her hands of the crumbs of the bread. "I've met Vesemir before. We've crossed paths when your mentor trained your beloved friends in the woods. I was there to save them when a wild monster attempted to take Matildi's life. Of course, she was on a thin line of breathing,"

Danyll blinks. "Wait, you-"

"I _saved_ her, that's all that matters," Alondra fiddles with her thumbs, putting up a red-tinted lip smile. "Vesemir sought me for council on you. I gave him a reading of destiny. _Your_ destiny," Alondra quickly grabs Danyll's free hand and Danyll can't stop herself from feeling like she's falling. Alondra's breathing is the only thing she can hear amidst the falling and the wind whipping around her ears.

Danyll flutters her eyelids. She's free-falling in the sky, and she panics when she looks down to find her directly aiming her back on a tree that's leafless. She tries for her sword from her scabbard but it's non-existent, and her dagger on her thigh, too, non-existent. So, nothing to stop her from falling into a painful death. She shuts her eyes, avoiding the temptation of succumbing into fear with a yelping cry of death let out.

' _Stop._ '

She feels like a huge force is holding her inches above from the tree's pointy beginning and she's panting, nonetheless. Her teeth are gritting. "Get me the fuck out of here!" Cries Danyll. "Alondra, _please_!" She doesn't expect to beg for her life to Alondra, but it seems that she's not listening to Danyll in the first place. However, when Danyll opens her eyes, she finds herself standing on land.

Feeling liberated, she falls onto her knees and scrunches the grass with her hands, nails digging into the dirt. She pants her pain, and suffers, away while looking up, seeing a small house with a farm behind it. She recognises the barn — it's the kind that she'd been dreaming for if she were not a witcher. Danyll shakily stands up, walking up to the house slowly. It's the exact one that comes to her mind every so often.

"Daddy!" A little girl cries, running down the stairs with a cloth-sewn doll and an older pair of twins following her. They're running up to a man who's physique seems familiar. He's holding a bulk of hay in his arms and he feeds the horse that's surrounded by another two horses in a fenced area. "Daddy, daddy!"

The man turns around.

Danyll gasps.

" _Geralt_?"

Instead of his signature white man and amber eyes, he has curly locks that mimic the colour of coal, the ones that miners use to find in mines and for fireplaces and such. His dreamy eyes are a blue sky and his once pale skin seems... _alive_. Danyll finds it odd to see Geralt _this_ way but feels what humans call 'happiness' to know that he's living a healthy, non-witcher life with three kids. 

Then, walking out of the barn is a lady in a nice dress, tailored to her comfort and her hair tied into a messy bun. Her hair is auburn like fire and eyes like wood. A dame, for sure, with how athletic her body is and because there is a shed of armour in it, along with her swords.

Then, walking out of the barn is a lady in a nice dress that is tailored to her comfort and her hair tied into a messy bun — hair is auburn like fire and eyes like dark wood, and mixing both seems to make a bad spell of havoc. A dame, for sure, with an athletic appeal and because not too far from the barn is a shed with knight armours in it that, too, have swords. Danyll gulps the breathless words seeing the dame because it's someone she knows. Instead of the silver hair and the complexion of every witchers there are, they are the _exact_ opposite of a witcher's characteristics — it's her, as a human.

A cloaked figure stands beside Danyll the witcher. "You question yourself most with this: what if you weren't witchers; would you two meet?" She says. "Your destiny's laid within Geralt's hands much as his yours. However, destinies come at a great cost," She waves her fingers at the direction of the happy family with their little house and their barn of animals.

Vesemir walks up to the parents, Geralt and Danyll. He looks ever-so like a witcher, despite the fantasy of her and Geralt not being one. Human-Danyll tells the kids to tend to the animals while Human-Geralt and Danyll speak to Vesemir. They speak silently and out of reach, however, Witcher-Danyll can tell that her human-self didn't want to give either of her children to Vesemir to become one... like him. However, a female witcher walks up to them, all prideful and confident in her stance.

"Osenne?" Danyll exhales, surprised.

"Aretuza had been beaten by Vesemir. Her chaotic magic is in control as a Witcher," Alondra says. "In a way, it's a better method as you can see, Osenne is a powerful sorceress. This is, however, her witcher destiny,"

"Wait... you invaded her mind... to read her destiny?" Danyll looks at Alondra.

"Yes," She nods.

"But in order to do so, you need to be in a great distance with her..." Danyll speaks to herself. Then, something clicks.

Danyll yanks her hand away from Alondra and stands, feeling the tip of a weapon against her throat as she feels threatened. Danyll looks at her peripheral, reality vision, seeing Giselle and Matildi with their hands up and Geralt holding Rose at the men who are holding theirs at them.

"Your destiny is _death_ ," Alondra smiles sweetly, standing up and the members of the _Thieves of Ozryn_ are standing behind her, smiling. Her best boons, Daphne Irwin and Haley snow, stand with betraying smiles.

Outside of the window of the inn, fire and explosion occur. Danyll grits her teeth.

"Fuck,"


	31. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶-𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔢

* * *

Danyll's wrists have been bound and wrapped behind, much like Geralt, Giselle and Matildi. They walk in a straight line out of the inn with the backstabbing _Thieves of Ozryn_ — Danyll doesn't recognise them anymore, why did they decide to betray her and the king when they've trusted their loyalty to them? — walking beside them while Alondra leads. They walk among the fiery storm that let's loose in the skies, and Danyll knows that they're using magic to hurt the people of Ozryn; whether she likes them or not, she feels indifferent about the place she's solely protected once a few years ago. If she hadn't let go of her weapons at Grandma Poppy's house, she would've beaten them all in one strike — ' _Is Grandma Poppy okay?_ ' Danyll asks herself to her subconscious, staring at her muddy boots.

"Your majesty," Alondra says, blocking the view of this 'majesty' to Danyll. "I bring what you seek. I did not hurt her, but I am willing to take your words to annihilate the rest of the witchers," She steps aside, revealing the monarch that's standing in his golden armour with a ruby red cape and studded gold on the hem. Danyll recognises him — _King Hurrey Rainerius_. "With Osenne and Gwayne, we can kill them, your majesty,"

King Hurrey hums, caressing the hilt of his sword. "Witchers aren't as easy to dispose of, witch," He holds his sword and Danyll prepares her stance to announce hand-to-hand combat, limited edition. "You see, they don't _die_ just by magic — they _are_ magic. If you are as smart as Osenne, you would've known," He disses and Osenne appears with Gwayne beside him. They are smiling at the sight of Danyll and her company tied up.

"My apologies, your majesty," Alondra nods. "What shall we do about them, then?"

"We let them go," King Hurrey says with a fake sympathy in his coo, nodding to the boons of the _Thieves of Ozryn_. They pull out their daggers and cut their binds except for Danyll's. " _You're_ mine, Danyll," He has a seductive smile – a smile that's mischievous enough to send chills down her spine. "Your daddy dearest here has given approval of _our_ hand in marriage. This, in the aftermath, will unite our kingdoms together."

"I like that idea," Danyll flashes a coy smile. "To shove it all up to your fucking ass,"

"Speak rudely to your future groom again and I _will_ kill your father with no mercy," He draws out his sword — silver, in the eyes of Danyll; his precious weapon — to lay the tip of the sharp sword against King Tebaud's Adam's apple. "Would you like to witness your father's death?"

Danyll chuckles, understanding the situation that one, her father _could_ get killed if she's overly sarcastic to her so-called 'future groom' and two, her life is in her father's hand and if he doesn't die in King Hurrey's hands, her father's blood will be in her's, _willingly_. "Fun fact, he is _not_ my father through the bloodline. He _embraced_ me when I was in the shit as a witcher who could barely make ends meet," She prepares a foot behind, feeling Geralt's back against her's. "Also, another really fun fact, we're _fucking_ magic!" With the keyword said, Giselle, Geralt and Matildi blast telekinetic force at King Hurrey's men, the _Thieves of Ozryn_ and the sorcerers. Geralt wraps an arm around Danyll's waist and they begin to run for the borders of Ozryn, making a beeline through the fights and chaos in this kingdom.

King Hurrey, from the far behind of Danyll, shouts for his men to stop them. As they're nearing the borders, they see Grandma Poppy on her prideful horse, Lee, with their horses. "Come, you old folks," Geralt helps Matildi onto Roach while Giselle saddles onto Wind. "They're coming, hurry!" She says, keeping a lookout as King Hurrey's men are quick on their feet to them.

Geralt succeeds in the attempt to rip off the bind around Danyll's wrists and she's about to climb onto Grand when something is whipped around her neck and she's pulled — or _forced_ — behind, creating her to choke on the grip. Geralt shouts in retaliation, as Danyll is being held as hostage once more and she's struggling, with the chain wrapped around her neck so she won't be able to flee. It's silver, so it's not easy to break with her enhanced strength.

"Flee the kingdom!" King Hurrey walks among his men and holds a grip on Danyll's shoulder. "Flee while you can and _never_ return," He forces the advice. They witness Geralt riding on Grand and they gallop out of the land. Danyll feels defeated and useless as she's now a captive of King Hurrey. "Hold back the rest. Tell them that we've won," He smirks, looking at Danyll and caresses her cheek. "Finally, you're _mine_ ,"

Danyll leans into the touch and quickly gnaws the tip of his forefinger and, with her sharp teeth, dig into the few layers of his finger and manages to tear off an amount of skin and flesh. King Hurrey cries in pain, slapping Danyll in the face for the crime she's done. "Send her to the dungeon with her father!" He orders his men and they comply.

The men drag her up to her standing stance forcefully and she staggers with their march towards Tebaud's castle. They try to drag her the more she sags her body weight into the ground, not wanting to follow the men into the dungeons of the castle. However, she sees Osenne and Gwayne — one's smiling as if the person has accomplished their ultimate goal, while the other looks at Danyll with a useless stare. Danyll growls and barks at the sorcerers. Dragged along is Tebaud, as they climb down a few flights of stairs that feel colder for each step taken.

"You're out of your fucking mind, Tebaud," Danyll hisses, feeling the tight chain reveal her skin once more. "Did you _seriously_ sell me to that dick? That man's a dictator! His people _starve_ as he spends his wealth on booze and whores. It's a surprise that he doesn't have a next of kin to rule that goddamn kingdom," They're shoved into a dungeon together and the sand of the ground enters their mouths. They cough it out. "I _trusted_ you, but like you, I was blinded by false loyalty. Why couldn't you see that Alondra Greene was working for _Erephere_? That the _Thieves of Ozryn_ had backstabbed their own king? Are you a fucking dunce?"

" **Do** ** _not_** speak to your father like that," Tebaud hisses. "No matter what you've gone through or that we're not of the same blood, I am _still_ your father. Vesemir blessed you with cunning wit; tell me _how_ we are going to escape this dungeon, then. I hate small spaces," He stands up, massaging his wrists that were once tightened with a rope.

Danyll sits up, sighing. "I don't know,"

King Tebaud scoffs, looking at Danyll with a disbelief look. "Vesemir blessed you with multiple magic and knowledge of _everything_. How can you _not_ know how to escape a dungeon?!"

"Oh, I'm _sorry_ , your fucking majesty, you're not the that has to marry someone!" Danyll snaps.

"I would've given you away in a heartbeat! Just like how Hurrey had offered me to bear a child in you and give me a grandchild!" Tebaud snaps back, punching the sand-stone wall and winces in pain when his knuckles ache heavily.

Danyll stares at him before laughing hysterically.

" _What_?" Tebaud growls.

"You think _I_ can bear a child? Oh, _father_ , Vesemir never told you?" Danyll smiles mischievously at his ignorance.

"Tell me what...?"

"I am incapable of producing a child," Danyll stands, pushing him against the wall and wrapping her fingers around his neck, bringing him up with her strength — _strangling_ him. "Your sacrifice for a well-bred monarchy and reputation deceives you. You've got yourself a fucking checkmate, _Tebaud_ ,"


	32. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶

* * *

The horses gallop across the field, leaping over a stream that divides Ozryn with the reality beyond. Geralt's grip on the reins grow tighter and his knuckles, paler than his current skin tone. The thought of losing Danyll to _something_ that's avoidable hurts his chest — an unknown feeling to him — to which he whips the reins and Grand gallops faster. However, the consequence of so is Grand tripping against a rock instead of jumping over it, and Geralt collapses to the ground.

Giselle and Matildi slide off their horses easily and grab aid of Geralt's arms. "Are you alright, brother?" Asks Matildi, frowning.

"I..." He can muster his thoughts to project into words. He looks at the sight of Ozryn — in flames, torturous screams can be heard as echoes from where hey are and Hurrey's men are standing guard of the borders of Ozryn. Geralt growls and punches the dirt, hurting his knuckle. "We have to save Danyll," He matures his tone, pushing himself onto his feet and marches for his steel sword from the scabbard hanging off of the side of Grandma Poppy 's horse. "I can take them out easily. With three witchers? Hurrey's men are bound to die in cold blood,"

Grandma Poppy descends her horse and holds Geralt's arm. They have to look at each other from a difficult eye level, but Grandma Poppy's eyes project great concern at Geralt's idea. "I agree that we have to save Danyll, but I disagree that you can easily take down his men. He's got the realm's strongest sorcerers to guide him in this journey. Imagine what it would be if they were to easily manipulate your minds with their magic?" Grandma Poppy hums thoughtfully. "Yes, King Hurrey is right. You three were rebirthed with magic, but... magic against magic isn't a good combination. It takes intelligence and strategy to be able to retrieve your beloved out of there,"

Geralt looks at Grandma Poppy with a pair of eyes that questions her words but after thorough thinking of what she had said, it makes sense to him. So, he pulls the reins of Grand and begins to walk into the forest that they once walked in. Losing Danyll seemed nothing to his exterior fashion, however, inside of him, he feels _hollow_ , despite having three women for a company that could've summed up Danyll on its own — Grandma Poppy for her wit; Giselle for her strength; Matildi for her love. Geralt can't face the woman without being reminded that he is, indeed, alone, like the days he had before reuniting with Danyll.

Grandma Poppy guides the clan into the centre of the forest, where they are nearby a river and they can make camp, despite the harsh condition. Giselle and Matildi scour for twigs and easily burnt wood for a firepit while Geralt and Grandma Poppy wait by the horses. Grandma Poppy hums. "I love Danyll with all my heart," She says, breaking the trance of Geralt's series of unfortunate 'Danyll's death' thoughts. "She's a gem in my eyes, frankly — a gem that needs extra care. Despite Vesemir's undoing of her being a lady, she fought for her rights and demands respect from the right people. Don't you agree?"

Geralt hums, looking at his wrists that were once bound by ropes. "She's tough and stubborn; qualities that show a good witcher, to say the least," He groans. "How did we _not_ see this coming?"

"She can take care of herself," Grandma Poppy states, seeing two figures approach from the further forest with a bunch of wood scraps in their arms. "But we must face the hard truth that Hurrey _will_ get what he wants and _that_ is Danyll's hand in marriage in order to unite the two kingdoms together, despite her not related to Tebaud by their blood,"

"Hurrey must be a fucking idiot then," Geralt scoffs.

Everyone is on high alert as they hear the crunching of fallen leaves and branches snapping easily. Geralt grabs Rose and stands in front of the ladies. Geralt uses his abilities to see in the dark and comprehend that there are four men, whom he recognises as the one who cast a sleeping spell on him prior to their entrance to the kingdom of Ozryn. Geralt is guided aside as Matildi stands in front of him.

"Dauid," Matildi says.

"We come in peace," Dauid says, signalling for the rest of the witchers to hold their arms up. "We are not loyal to Hurrey. He kicked us out the moment he got his hands on Danyll," He sighs. "We attempted to save her when she was locked up with Tebaud, but his security is maximum; like protecting a dragon's egg,"

"You speak if they exist," Giselle scoffs. "How can we trust you?"

"We can't," Geralt says after a moment's silence. "However, we need as many help for Ozryn and Danyll," He seals away Rose and approaches Dauid. "How many other witchers can you heed for help in this war between us and Hurrey?" He asks, walking up to Dauid and presents an arm.

Dauid blinks his eyes, cupping his hand around Geralt's elbow and Geralt does the same. They squeeze for a signal of acquaintance. "We have our connections with other schools. From last we hear, there are witchers in the radius of villages not too far. I serve loyalty with the best soup in the realm. I will go find the shapeshifting direwolves with Matildi," Dauid nods. "Nygell and Giselle can look for allies to serve on the cause of saving the wise king," He says. "Yvett and Rolland will gather an army of witchers,"

"What do _we_ do?" Grandma Poppy asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No offence, but an old lady can't do much in battle," Dauid chuckles. "Geralt, we must speak in secret," Dauid points, bringing him aside where his boon of witchers unite with the ladies, and Grandma Poppy scoffs as she's been referred as an old lady. "You will be a great asset in our plan," Dauid says, nodding. "We need you to surrender to Hurrey,"

" _What_?" Geralt scoffs.

"Once he knows that he's got you in his chains and Danyll as his wife, you'll be... his pet," Dauid says it sweetly. "What Hurrey wants most out of Danyll is to get into your head that he has her, and I know from that blank face of yours that his tricks up his sleeves are already working. We need you to surrender so that you can keep in contact with Yvett," He nods to Yvett, who nods back. "Yvett has the ability to read minds or manipulate them with his will. He will keep us in a circle for any news,"

Geralt gives it a thought.

He can't care less if he were to be tortured in ways that humans can't stand but if it's for the sake of saving Danyll and her ever-lasting dignity, then...

' _Anything... for her_ ,' He thinks, holding out one hand. "Anything."


	33. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶-𝔬𝔫𝔢

* * *

Tebaud sits in the corner of the cell, his head hanging to the side while he looks tiredly at the bars holding him back from the outside world. He's growing tired of counting sheep — sheep to his _death_. Hurrey's trusted guards are standing outside with their weapons visible to him and slowly, like an animal prowling, he stands and quietly approaches the bars. Similar to the fastest animal in the realm, his hands are quick to grab the dagger from the guards but they turn around and wrap their hands around his wrists, pulling him harshly into the metal bars.

"Fuck you!" Tebaud cries, feeling his nose ache and the middle of his forehead too. He slouches to the ground; the sand of the cell he's kept in, constantly enters his mouth. With curious eyes, he looks at Danyll, who has her eyes shut and she's sitting with her legs crossed. "What are you doing?" He asks Danyll, tasting blood as it slowly comes down the cupid of his lips and into his mouth.

Danyll slowly opens her eyes to reveal the ruby gems. "Wishing for destiny to grant me a new and _smarter_ patriarch," She chuckles. "I'm thinking of ways to save yourself from Hurrey. If you're lucky, he won't have your head in a guillotine," Stands up, dusting her bottom from the sand and hums. "What he wants is for me to give my hand in marriage, which _you_ stupidly had done so," She rolls her eyes. "I shall comply with his needs. Then, after a while, I will have his head off,"

"What do you mean ' _after a while_ '? How long do you think you can stay married to a maniac?!" Tebaud harshly whispers to her. "This place will be in torn the moment Hurrey takes the seat of the united kingdoms. What if _your_ head is in that guillotine for your stupid, childish act? You're just a witcher who can't breed his — or _any_ — children!"

"You're right, I am _just_ a witcher," Danyll's eyes snap on him and he cowers beneath her glare. "I am nothing but a female witcher that has fought her ways through the trials Vesemir has set for me, and I've survived the worst poisons that this, but if you insist on being in _my_ way," She kicks Tebaud aside and approaches the door. "Guards, open up. I have some words that will charm your beloved king,"

The guards look at each other and one of them unlock the door for Danyll — and _only_ for her — to exit. As per orders, she didn't need to be bound in order to meet Hurrey and so, she follows both of them up the stairs that lead to the castle's foyer. The guards' heavy armour makes dragging noises and their weapons hitting the legs irritate her badly. She shuts her eyes and breathes, a technique she's learnt from Geralt whenever she's in need of hurting someone.

They spiral around the sandstone stairs and the guards open the doors, and they grip Danyll's arms as they bring her to the throne room. Danyll passes many guards that are guarding a variety of rooms, and they push open the wooden structures that become of the throne room. In the middle of the room is a large throne that looks like a tree with leaves carved out in silver and the sunlight shining from the stained glasses above casts many tiny reflections on the ceiling, showing the articulate mural of Ozryn's past.

"Your majesty," One of the guards speak up. "The prisoner requires a word with you,"

"Prisoner? How _dare_ you. She will be my newlywed!" He scoffs but turns to Danyll as he waves off Osenne, Gwayne and Alondra to the side, where the rest of the _Thieves of Ozryn_ are. "In need of words with me? They are first for everything," He chuckles. Hurrey wiggles one forefinger for her to step closer and she hisses at the guards when they nudge her over. " _Careful_ with her! If she is hurt because of you, I will have your head off!" He shouts.

Danyll subtly smirks.

"So, you've finally come to a consensus about marrying me, then?" Hurrey asks as Danyll walks up to him, kneeling on one knee. "Don't need to be so respectful of me, my dear. We _are_ about to get married in two days; my people have come so far to witness the unity of our love," He picks up the goblet served by his squire. "I shouldn't have put you in the cell, should've I?"

"Not really, my..." She swallows hard. " _Beloved_ ,"

"Your majesty, she is _faking_ it," Osenne scoffs, looking at Hurrey, who pays no attention to her words.

"At last, you finally take my love to heart," Hurrey stands up and raises his goblet; silver like the leaves embedded into the tree-like throne. "Our children-"

The doors to the throne room are forced open and Danyll turns her head over her shoulder, heart once hung now drops to the acidic pit of her stomach. She stands silently, watching as a man of silver hair and amber eyes walk towards them, particularly to Hurrey. He is bound on the wrists and is held by Hurrey's men. _Geralt of Rivia_ has made his grand entrance and he stands in the middle of the throne room, shadowed by the throne.

"The _Butcher of Blaviken_ ," Hurrey says as if he's spilling poison out of his mouth. Nonetheless, on his face exists a smirk. "What brings you to my throne?"

"I," Geralt looks at Danyll, who scrunches her eyebrows. " _Surrender_ to you, your majesty," He hangs his head low as he speaks with ultimate defeat, and everyone in the room, except for Danyll, breaks out into a hearty guffaw.

"Sweet like honey!" Hurrey swings his goblet, spilling wine to the ground. "I am the first king to _have_ a witcher to surrender! Oh, my great sorcerers, you bring me joy with your charming schemes," He steps down from the steps and approaches Geralt, humming. "I've _always_ hated your white hair," He scoffs, pouring his wine onto Geralt's hair and the red soaks into the white strands. Everyone breaks into a much heartier guffaw and Geralt looks up at Hurrey with soft, amber eyes. "You look like a puppy who's been kicked in the stomach and is on the brink of death. Shall I put you out of your misery?"

"No, _wait_!" Danyll intervenes. Hurrey looks at her. She croaks her words. "If... you want to act on euthanasia for him, I want it on _our_ wedding day. During the dusk of our wedding, I want to sit by your side and... and..." She trembles a sigh, forcing a smile. "Watch his head be thrown into a well and never come back alive,"

Hurrey smiles. "My wife does her due of loving me," he smiles and strokes Geralt's cheek. "My future newlywed has spared you _two_ days of your life. Thank her while you still have your tongue,"

Geralt growls, looking at Danyll.

" _Thank you_ ,"


	34. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶-𝔱𝔴𝔬

* * *

Her silver hair reflects underneath the sunlight shining from the gleaming window; she can make of the reflection through the upper corner of her peripheral vision, where a raven flies by and she looks at the creature sitting on the branch of the wilted tree outside in the courtyard. Danyll lingers her thoughts on the bird — what is the purpose of its existence? _Why_ does it exist in the first place?

She begins to wonder why she exists in the first place and she can't help but think further down the trail. Danyll can't remember the faces that made and gave birth to her — only the man who embraced her while she was wandering about in the forest, as he found her — except for the names, _Solomon_ and _Brigida_. She had dreams where she meets two figures in the light; a light that Vesemir reassures her is not the Heavenly light people see while during the last seconds of their deaths.

Danyll returns her ruby eyes from the sight of the raven to her book about potions that she'll have to register once she's old enough to fight for her own life. There are potions for a witcher to use and her ancestral-mentors have passed down their knowledge to give advice to the future witchers. A lot of them that she studies are about adrenaline-rush and superhuman stamina (as if she doesn't have it already).

"Hey!" She cries to the boys that ran into her purposely, knocking her down to the ground along with her books and the shattered potion bottles kept in her satchel. Danyll sighs, getting up and dusting off her knees and keeps her book in the bag. However, she had done an accident by grazing the tips of her fingers against the shards of the potion bottles. She yelps in surprise, looking at the slow bleeding beads surround the wound, and she sucks on it.

"Danyll," Someone calls out behind her. She turns around. "Are you alright? I saw the rest pushed you,"

"You didn't," Danyll smirks.

Geralt rolls his eyes. "I am in no mood of fun and games, Danyll," He gently grabs her fingers to inspect the wound and see that their slow bleeding effect has done its job. Geralt sighs. "What have I told you about carrying around potion bottles? You've hurt yourself against because of the fall, and once Vesemir finds out that he's missing some bottles, he'll have our asses for this,"

Danyll rolls her small, beady eyes. "I am studying the art of potions," She pries open her satchel and exposes the book of potions in front of him. "If we are to be good witchers, we need to know what are the suitable potions for battles against monsters,"

"Humans are monsters too," Geralt gestured for her to follow him and ditch the glass pile, hoping that blaming one of the other witcher-in-training would save them the lectures. "I am guessing once you're done with the witcher scenery, you're out to find your parents?" He raises an eyebrow, looking at her as she walks with pride. That baffles Geralt — she's always been surrounded by boys her whole life under Vesemir's watch, why is it she's not threatened by their masculine yet threatening presence? "They are human too. Are _you_ going to kill them?"

"Yess," Danyll nods and that catches Geralt on his throat. "I have many questions about my origin. I can only remember these names — Soloman and Brigida. If they truly are my parents, why is it that they neglected me well enough for Vesemir to find me, deserted?" She hums, blinking slowly. "Humans are monsters, of course. Vesemir has told me the tales of rapists and thieves, and murderers and corrupted monarchs,"

"Tragic," Geralt exhales, bringing Danyll to the courtyard. "Are you in the mood for training?"

Danyll and Geralt look at each other, smiling. Danyll sets down her satchel and rubs her hands together as Geralt produces two wooden swords. He throws one at Danyll while he keeps the other one, spinning the handle around his wrist and prowling for an attack against her. "Are you just going to stand there and fight me like a little girl?"

"Little girl?" Danyll scoffs. She pulls out a piece of black cloth from her pocket and ties it around her eyes so that she can perceive nothing, visually, but darkness. "What's wrong with fighting like a girl? Think little of us and one day, those words _will_ bite you back," She can't tell where Geralt is but she knows where, by estimation, by the sound of his footsteps against the sandy ground.

"Fight me!" Geralt shouts before swinging at her and Danyll pulls herself backwards, feeling the spanking of the wind by her face. Danyll almost loses her footing when her toe smacks into the heel of her other foot, but she composes herself and tightens her grip. "Damn, I _almost_ had you there...!"

"You can't take me down as easily as you took down Markus," Danyll chuckles, twirling around and whacking Geralt's side. She giggles at the hit but didn't expect for the hard poke against her stomach. She growls. "You bastard!" She hops onto her knees upon falling, and hangs her head low, registering the sounds of her environment, like how Vesemir had taught her. The sounds of Geralt's feet shuffling on the ground and where the wind is blowing, or where the sun is shining against her pale, static skin. _Shift_. She parries Geralt's move and swings his sword down, disabling his next move.

Smirking, she swings her sword upwards that the tip of it smacks Geralt hard in the chin. "Argh!" Geralt cries, falling to his knees. "How is it that you're good when blindfolded?!"

" _Practice_ ," A familiar voice speaks behind Danyll.

Danyll pulls down the cloth that blinded her, finding Vesemir walking towards them. Vesemir approaches without caution nor a reason to be. His hands are cupped behind and he looks at Geralt. "Stand on your feet boy," He says and Geralt does so. "I see great potential in your fighting," He speaks, looking at Geralt and Danyll. "You are elegant while he is quick — two aspects important in weaponry combat. One must be elegant as the finest cloth yet quick as the running water." He nods. "Danyll, hand him your blindfold. This time, he needs to learn what I've taught you,"

Danyll looks at the black cloth in her hand and hands it to Geralt, who slips it on and restricts any light into his amber eyes.

"Again!"

Danyll blinks her eyes, finding herself seated on a throne next beside hurrey, who is drunk out of his mind with a goblet in hand. He waves the wine around, spilling it on Osenne, Gwayne and Alondra while he claps for the parrying sword-fight revealing in front of them. In the corner of the room, between the guards, are Geralt and Tebaud, misery in captivity.


	35. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶-𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢

* * *

Danyll can hear the echoing sounds of her chambers getting knocked, and she doesn't bother to sit up to make herself look decent for a visitor's outlook on her. "Enter," She says, plainly. The heavy door swings open with a slight creak and it shuts. Several footsteps resound into her ears and Danyll looks down in her peripheral eye — they look like little beads of marbles, and this is the cause of having blurriness of a vision from lack of sleep. A combination of Hurrey's and Tebaud's maids are going to prepare Danyll for her wedding day. The _Dreaded_ Day.

The supervisor for this moment is Osenne, out of all the people.

"Are you excited for the new chapter of your life, your highness?" Osenne asks with a tinge of sarcasm in her tone. "Sure, _you and I_ could have had a normal life as a pair of undefeated fighters, but _you_ chose this destiny instead of ours and I can tell from your miserable eyes that you regret not taking my advice,"

The maids gently lift Danyll onto a sitting position, where they slowly pull her nightgown off while the others prepare a hot bath for her. In the meantime, Osenne looks at Danyll, who is bare-bodied, with a pair of eyes that change lens between guilt and pride. Osenne has always looked up to Danyll for advice back when they were 'together' but how is it this time that, after betraying her in many ways, she feels... _bad_ for her?

She didn't need to be the voice of Hurrey to call herself somewhat jealous. She wants Danyll back but of course, that can never happen with how their history is altogether. Osenne clenches her hands at the thought of having to give away her best past lover to a dictator who couldn't care less about her after getting married for a month.

"Don't do this," Osenne whispers.

"Excuse me...?" Danyll scrunches her eyebrows.

"Don't get married to him," Osenne whispers as she walks closer to Danyll. "It's a mistake. I shouldn't have done this out of spit that you left me,"

"I left you because you're a crazy bitch that followed someone's ungodly order and burned an entire village to ashes. The babes, Osenne, think about them!" Danyll growls, throwing a pillow at the sorceress, despite it being futile in hurting her in any way."I have to do this, where you like it or not, Osenne. I already have a plan in mind," Danyll gets up once the maids tell each other that the hot bath has been prepared. Danyll looks at Osenne, eyes squinting. "How can _I_ trust you after your graceful act of stabbing me in the back?"

Osenne produces a dagger from her thigh, running a glide down her arm where the beading blood droplets pull down from Earth's force. Danyll looks at the gesture, wondering if she'd be a crazy bitch too if she were to do a blood oath on taking down Hurrey together. Has Osenne hated him since the beginning? Maybe... ' _No,_ ' Thinks Danyll, sighing and grabs the dagger before performing the same glide and the blood oath's done. Danyll can't explain much how the process of an unbreakable loyalty, but she can feel that Osenne is repenting her sins prior to their unity at the current moment.

"Please wait outside," Danyll tells the maids. She walks into the bathroom with Osenne as she shuts the door behind them. Danyll looks at the steaming bath and dips her cold feet onto the surface of the water, before diving straight right in. Danyll can't lie — the circumstances of her being in the bath currently relieves all the knots in her joints. "Why have you decided to turn yourself against Hurrey and the rest?"

"I find that love is greater than hate," Osenne says, standing by the window and looking outside where havoc had happened in the prior night, where the people of Erephere had completely trashed everything and left the people of Ozryn with nothing. "As much as I despise your witcher thinking, I found — still find — your misery to be rather saddening, She turns to Danyll, who idly sits in the bath. "In addition, your partner in crime is Hurrey's pet. Have you heard the tortures he made Gwayne put him through? Gwayne _enjoys_ it,"

Danyll clenches her fists in the water.

"You are one of the subconscious to Hurrey's chaotic brain; can't you advise him that torturing a witcher means _nothing_?" Danyll scoffs. "He's already torturing his future newlywed, who is a witcher, with the sight of irrelevant blood loss by the battlements before. Innocent lives are gone because of you, Gwayne and Alondra," Danyll scoffs. "Are you sorcerers this dunce? Does it take for a common witcher to just outsmart you?"

Osenne grabs a bunch of Danyll's hair and yanks her head down so that their eyes meet each other. Osenne's jaw is clenching visibly while Danyll is smirking, knowing that she's struck a nerve in Osenne without even herself knowing. "I've compromised my position to save you from your misery, Danyll. Appreciate my gesture or I'll call off the deal,"

Danyll chuckles. "Then you're dunce enough to let emotions cloud your judgement," Danyll splashes hot water into Osenne's eyes, which she winces in pain. "I know a way to stop this madness," Danyll says, bringing her knees to her scarred chest and squints her eyes at the ripple in the bath. "You'll have to stop the wedding. Hurrey knows of our history; say that you still love me, that you can't risk losing me to a dictator like him,"

Osenne scoffs, saying, "Why is it when _I_ do something out of love for you, you throw me away like a ragged doll?" She shakes her head, wiping her eyes with a towel meant for Danyll. "You dare to have my head beheaded? I'm still a young sorceress that _needs_ to have a taste of life or the world!"

"You've fucked it up when you decided to join forces with Hurrey to plot for my father's death and hand me over to him," Danyll says spitefully. "I don't fancy myself as a wife. I am a witcher, and we witchers have our ways of taking back what's ours," Danyll stands up, pinning her feet to the base of the bath. "I am taking back my Geralt and my father,"

"And you need my help,"

" _Now_ we're on the same page,"


	36. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶-𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔯

* * *

Geralt sits in his cell with Tebaud, who already comprehends, amidst being trapped in the confinement for the past few hours, that his' and Geralt's times are up. Tebaud is sitting in the corner of the cell, rocking himself back and forth with his head against his knees. "I don't want to die this way," Tebaud says like a mantra to the God he worships. "This is _not_ the way I wished to go,"

Geralt hums, as usual, sitting on his calves and his eyes shut. What's running in his mind is the sight of losing Danyll to a dictator that would rape her endlessly and, regardless that she's incapable of reproducing from his fruit, she would eventually be broken down and get killed for not doing the one thing Tebaud has wanted from Danyll as his vow for this marriage. Geralt clenches his hands in hatred, in ultimate rage, thinking about the suffering.

' _Geralt, can you hear me?_ ' A voice in his head speaks and oddly enough, it doesn't belong to him or his thoughts. ' _It is Yvett_ ,' The voice speaks yet Geralt chooses to ignore. The rest of the witchers that had solemnly promise him to help didn't do their deeds, and why is it now, conveniently, that Yvett is speaking to him? He shouldn't have surrendered in the first because he knows best that he can take out Hurrey and his army all alone. No, he _had_ to listen to the other, younger witchers that Vesemir had taken under his wing. ' _Stop worrying about Danyll. We are here to help you as we said_ ,'

"Where were you when I had to humiliate my dignity?" Geralt growls in his earshot, earning an uncanny glance from Tebaud. "Danyll is about to hand herself to a man who would act like a monster if _I_ don't stop this!" He punches the floor, scaring Tebaud as a byproduct. "All I need is a sword," He looks at the guards guarding the cell; none of them has a sword in hand — Hurrey is smart enough not to leave his men armed. Geralt growls. " _Fuck_ ,"

' _Geralt_ ,' Yvett speaks. ' _We have enough men and women to call ourselves an army. Witchers and none, we are here to save your damsel from distress. I just need you to take Danyll away from Hurrey when they are speaking their vows. Some of our witchers have been hiding in Erephere, which means that they the ins and outs of Hurrey's arrogance at this situation_ ,'

"I am doing this _my_ way," Geralt stands.

"What are you doing?" Tebaud whispers harshly.

"Saving what is mine," Geralt holds out his hand and creates a forceful blast towards the cell which repels and throws him against the wall behind him. "What the...?" He groans in pain, sliding down to his legs. Tebaud scrambles to Geralt's side, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he assures that Geralt is not hurt in any way. As Geralt composes himself, he notices the silhouettes of Hurrey's guards disappear for a moment, followed by thuds of some sort. Then, keys jingling together before one inserts into the grill of their cell. "Who are you?"

The guard produces a necklace emblem, similar to Geralt's. "We are here to save you and Danyll, and bring back Ozryn to your ruling, your majesty,"

"My hero!" Tebaud cries, hugging the witcher.

"We don't have time," The witcher says, separating himself from Tebaud with a disgusted face on his complexion due to the contact. He turns to Geralt, producing a steel sword that belongs to him. "The wedding is about to start. We must blend in," The witcher says, whistling for his partner to hand Geralt and Tebaud commoners' cloaks. They attach it around their necks without hesitation. "Follow us,"

Geralt holds his steel sword underneath the thin layer of his cloak, followed by Tebaud, who is paranoid about his every step as they exit the confinement and up the stairs. The doors to the foyer slowly open, and Geralt and Tebaud hide from commoners' sight as they enter the throne room for the wedding. The witcher guiding Geralt and Tebaud motions two fingers, and they follow him. The witcher and his partner are dressed as Hurrey's guards so they don't have an issue to blend in.

"When the solemniser asks for any objects, I will strike Hurrey in protest. That is your cue to take Danyl from her position. Understood?" The witcher asks Geralt, who nods hesitantly, thinking that _that_ plan won't succeed, but hope is what he really needs to trust at the moment. "And, your majesty, you must act like your people. When havoc ensues, you must _run_ ," The witcher tells Tebaud, who nods.

The witcher goes their separate ways.

"We must part ways, your majesty," Geralt tells Tebaud. Tebaud's ready for protest however, Geralt pushes him into the crowd and watches him forced to blend in. Geralt walks with another group of commoners who are all men, bearing bouquets of flowers to throw at the newly wedded couples. Geralt looks around, registering the throne room as such a highly decorated place for someone who is about to get married in two days, so he applauds for Hurrey.

As all the commoners are split into sections of the wedding hall, the bard and his play of performers perform with their instruments to introduce the bride. Instead of Tebaud bringing Danyll down the aisle, it's the sorcerer, Gwayne, who has pride written all over his face. Geralt growls, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword and he sighs, knowing that staring does nothing. As the bard sings beautifully, Geralt tries to walk through the crowd for a better view of the 'wedding'.

"Ladies and gentlemen," The solemniser speaks as he holds a book in his hands, smiling innocently, not knowing the bigger picture behind this marriage. "We, as the united kingdom of Erephere and Ozryn, are gathered for a holy matrimony. It is the marriage of a king and his beloved," He speaks with a velvet voice, looking around. "In this beautiful ceremony, we have gathered gifts for the groom and bride."

As the speech goes, Hurrey gives his own before vowing the marriage. ' _Geralt,_ ' Yvett's voice returns, irritating him. ' _Do not engage in the fight. I sense something is about to happen... it's the sorceress,_ ' He speaks, resulting in Geralt looking for Osenne instantly. His heart didn't say either it's Alondra or Osenne, but he knows well that the latter is to hurt Danyll. ' _You must act now-_ '

Their train of thoughts ends when an explosion occurs in the skies of the castle, distracting everyone in the place. Gerallt looks down, seeing that Danyll is no longer standing there. Someone cries that the bride has vanished and everyone is in a state of panic, including Hurrey. "Guards, look for the witcher!" He shouts. As everyone is in wild manners, Geralt squeezes himself through the crowd and approaches Hurrey, cupping his neck and tightening it. "W-Witcher!" Hurrey tries to yell loudly for his men, but they are too busy trying to tone down the people.

"Where is she?!" Geralt shouts amidst the havoc.

"I don't know!" Hurrey squeaks like a mouse, his face turning blood red.

Geralt is about to stab him in the chest when in the corner of his peripheral vision, he notices a wall's opening. Geralt grows, giving a graze against Hurrey's skin before running off towards the pathway that leads outside. He looks around, searching for a woman in egg white but to his avail, he sees none. He runs around the castle only to find Yvett and Rolland fighting off Hurrey's men with their steel swords. Geralt produces his and brandishes his blade. "Where's Danyll?!" Geralt asks Yvett, who quickly shrugs. "You _lost_ her?!"

"No, he didn't,"


	37. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶-𝔣𝔦𝔳𝔢

* * *

Geralt's long embrace is what she needs at the moment and Danyll buries her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the sweat and onion-like musk Geralt gives off, while he smells sweetly apple pie and cinnamon with a hint of lavender from Danyll. For once, she feels like crying at the sight of him and now that they've reunited, she feels much stronger and feels capable of fighting Hurrey.

"We have to go," Yvett says, pointing at Hurrey's men who have laid eyes on the runaway bride. Danyll whips her head around to see how many men are chasing after her but Geralt quickly wraps his arms under Danyll before charging off with Yvett and Rolland, avoiding the arrows shooting at them. Thankfully, they made it across the borders without having a scratch on them. However, when they reach the tips of the forest, they see that Ozryn is once again on fire.

"My home..." Danyll croaks sadly.

"We're going to win it back," Yvett says confidently. He gestures for Geralt and Danyll to walk further into the forest, where they meet the other witchers and knights who are on the cause of _against_ Hurrey. Grandma Poppy, upon seeing Danyll, yelps out of her bones and embraces her daughter-figure in relief. "These are all the people who are willing to help us. Most of them are against HUrrey while there are other witchers who seek to help the admired,"

Giselle and Matildi hug Danyll together, rubbing her back as comfort. "Here, your swords," Giselle says, pulling away from the embrace to grab Danyll's swords from her horse, Grand. "We've taken good care of your companion. Now, we just need to take down Hurrey and his army,"

Danyll grabs the sword, running her hand down the blade and swings it to ensure that it's sharp enough to cut through the skin of her enemies'. She smiles. "I'm glad that I'm back," Danyll announces to the pack as she stands tall on a rock, earning everyone's attention. "I was kept in captivity by a man with rotten dreams — the kinds that are _impossible_. Wishing for children that can't be borne by an incapable witcher. This man can and _will_ do anything to have me in his hands. I give my many grateful thanks to those who are loyal enough to save my home from a dictator. Today, we _will_ take him down,"

Everyone breaks into an enthusiastic hoorah with their weapons waved in the air. Geralt helps Danyll down the stone and he looks down at her. "I want you to know that I will forever be by your side," Geralt says. "Through centuries battles, unbeatable monsters and annoying bards,"

"Save that for later," Danyll leans her forehead against Geralt's chin, feeling their heartbeat in a synchronisation. "This dress is not fit for a female witcher," She looks down, breaking the sync, frowning at the sight of the length of the skirt. Although she may enjoy dressing up once in a while, she wouldn't want her skirt to be a floor's length. Geralt suggests that she changes into Matildi's spare outfit but by the time his suggestion hits the air, Danyll uses her strength to tear off the pure fabric up to her thighs before forcing off the tight sleeves so that she can swing her sword without restraint. "I am _finally_ back,"

Someone runs into their sigh, panting as he's on his knees. "King Hurrey! He is ready to attack us!" The messenger cries, easily registered in Danyll's mind that he is not fit for fighting. Grandma Poppy guides him to the side where she can comfort him to calmness.

Danyll looks at Geralt and they nod. They equip themselves onto their saddles on their trusted steeds. Danyll turns herself to the army of knights and witchers; some on horses, some on feet. She clears her throat. "We are about to embark on a battle that may or may not sacrifice lives. If you really are loyal to my cause — _this_ —, you wish for death to be riding with you. However, for those who are scared to lose themselves for this, you may leave," She says, surprised to see that none of them are leaving. She tightens her hands around her reins and nods. "We shall make haste,"

They appear into the world from the forest and realise that it's dripping from the cloud. Danyll pays no attention to it as she stops Grand, signalling the others that they should too. At the other end of the battlefield is Hurrey on his horse with his knights behind and an army beyond that. Danyll can see that he is not smiling like usual, which means he is definitely pissed. Despite her ability to see that far, she is unable to make the words of Hurrey's.

She looks at Geralt. "What is he saying?"

"I have no fucking idea," Geralt squints his eyes.

They are, unfortunately, alarmed by the enthusiastic chime with Hurrey's army's swords in the air and their horses gallop forward. Danyll cries out a battle cry with her sword up and her own army begins to go further as well. Danyll and Geralt's vision are set on Hurrey, who is confident that he can take down the army of witchers and knights easily. As they gallop to the center, suddenly there are two large walls blocking King Hurrey's and Danyll's ways. They are forced to stop their army from advancing.

In the middle of the two walls are the sorcerers: Gwayne, Alondra and Osenne. Gwayne and Alondra are holding the walls while Osenne looks at the two enemies. "Fighting is futile," She says. "Drop your swords and crossbows and realise that this is a war that can be handled with compromise," Osenne offers more peaceful ways for Danyll and Hurrey to settle this issue, as the walls are descending with her friends agreeing. However, Danyll grabs one of her army's crossbows and shoots it at Osenne's head.

That action comes with a consequence: an angry sorcerer.

Alondra holds Gwayne away from the deceased and their walls fall. Danyll gallops herself over the body and Hurrey whips the reins for his steed to move. Havoc is created as each others' swords swing at one another and Hurrey desperately tries to get to Danyll, however, she busies herself with killing his men in order to do the same. The witchers that are on her side begin to slide off their horses in order to get a better angle of attack and Danyll whispers something into Grand's ear which the animal is quick to neigh on its two back legs.

Danyll diverts herself away from the war between two different worlds as she gallops towards the deserted area west of the battlefield. Danyll sneaks glances over her shoulder to see if Hurrey is following, and not surprisingly, he is. She smiles, continuing to guide Grand forward. However she doesn't expect what comes in front — Gwayne had teleported himself onto the ground and based on his complexion, he is not overly _too_ fond of Danyll. He puts out his hand and produces a telekinetic pulse that forces Danyll off her horse, and catching up to her finally is Hurrey.

He hops off his saddle.

"You _think_ you can run away from _me_?!" Hurrey shouts. He kicks Danyll in the stomach multiple times, where Danyll starts to produce blood through her mouth. "Do you know how long I have waited for this moment? The moment I saw you.. I _knew_ you were going to be my wife, but you had to ruin it,"

Danyll chuckles amidst the dull pain in her stomach. "I'm sorry... but what you wish for is impossible," She holds her abdomen, grunting as she stands on her feet. "I can never bear a child in me. Your greediness has clouded your ignorance, which is why... you're fucking stupid!"

Hurrey slaps Danyll.

"Lies!" Hurrey shouts.

"Your precious sorcerer knows well of me," Danyll scoffs, wiping the blood off her lips. "Ask him yourself. He's already pledged to Osenne and Alondra that he can't tell any lies, alive _or_ dead," She chuckles. Hurrey looks at Gwayne, who stares back with guilt and betrayal. Hurrey cries in anger and brandishes his sword across Gwayne's neck, decapitating the sorcerer's head off of his body. "You want to fight... let's fight. You're not a coward, but I know you're fucking shit in hand-to-hand," Danyll releases her sword. She watches Hurrey hesitantly let go of his sword, clenching his fists for combat.

With a quick reflex, she's able to block his punch and push him aside, grabbing his arm and twisting it to his lower back. Hurrey cries in pain and only in _more_ pain when Danyll punches his elbow down, hearing the loudest break amidst the battle sounds from the battlefield. Hurrey stomps on Danyll's foot and Danyll disables herself from locking Hurrey in the position. He grabs his sword — proving Danyll that he is nothing but a man who is a coward without a weapon — to swing the blade at Danyll. Danyll avoids the brandish.

Hurrey shouts in anger, grabbing a handful of sand and throws it into her eyes, blinding her. Danyll cries in discomfort, feeling her precious orbs drying up from the particles and she tries not to rub them. ' _This is my moment,_ ' She thinks as she hears the shuffling sounds of Hurrey's feet around the sand. They slither like a snake prowling at its prey, and Danyll barrel rolls when Hurrey swings at her once more. She's kneeling on the ground, trying to find the familiar hilt of her sword but she can hear the rapid breathing of Hurrey's as he tries to swing at her again.

She grabs Hurrey's sword by the blade, allowing it to dig into her hand and she doesn't yelp in pain. She furthers the strength of the grab, resulting for the sharp edges to dig into her muscles and yet, she doesn't flinch. Danyll stands, although blinded by the sand, she can feel the fear from Hurre. She pulls the sword away from him and swings it across him, hearing him cry in pain at the hit. "This is for all the people you've raped and taken their innocent lives!" She cries, swinging the sword once more at him, unknowing where the blade had hit him. "This is for the kids that you've ripped off their futures!"

Danyll hears a falling thud.

She growls, placing the tip of the sword against Hurrey's chest and his panting breath vibrates that even she can feel it. "And this," She slowly pushes the sword into his chest, hearing his pleading cry. "This is for _Geralt_ ," She pushes in the sword through his chest and hears a grunt coming from him, and he leaves a final breath to exhale. Danyll tries to open her eyes, attempting to see the mess she's done. Once the natural tears return the favour of fixing her vision, she recognises the death of a cowardly king. She creates a large gash in his chest, reaching into the dead body and forces out the heart that's squeezing out blood before the muscle dies. She smiles.

She rides on Grand and whips the rein and begins galloping towards the battlefield. From afar, she can see Alondra fighting Danyll's fife with her magic, but someone shoots an arrow into her forehead and she falls to the ground, dead. ' _Good_ ,' She thinks. She arrives at the edge of the battlefield and creates a telekinetic pulse to divide the battlefield. For a moment, Hurrey's men want to resume fighting, but upon seeing Danyll with a bloodied hand and dress, they stop.

Danyll slides down from the saddle.

"This," She speaks. "This is your precious king's heart." She throws it to the ground and stomps on it, resulting in a tenderised organ. "It's over,"


	38. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶-𝔰𝔦𝔵

* * *

The army of Erephere remains silent at Danyll's action of tenderising their dead king's heart. She's huffing and puffing in anger, relieved that he's dead — he's _finally_ dead. She's looking at them with gleaming ruby eyes, and they halt their brandished swords, prepared bows and arrows, and crossbows too — unknown to what orders to do now as their king is no longer alive to tell them what to do. They look at each other weirdly, and Danyll and her fife are ready to fight them in any case that they're over-raging. However, as Danyll holds the hilt of her sword, they slowly raise their metaphorical white flags, surrendering their weapons to the ground.

In a wave fashion, the knights and army of Erephere kneel onto their knees, a fist into the air and their enthusiastic chimes and cries of happiness. Danyll stands there, confused. She doesn't really expect for Hurrey's men to surrender as fast as they can than to attempt to slay her for causing treason. She breaks out of the trance of adrenaline rush and looks down at her attire — all bloodied from head to toe, and she shuts her eyes, feeling the emotion of what humans say 'relief'. She wants to cry, and she can feel the tears collecting on her lower lid and falls down her cheek.

Geralt slowly approaches Danyll with Roach, sliding off the saddle and pulls her away from the stomping aftermath. "It's done," He reassures. "He's dead," He whispers calmly into her ears as if he's cast axii on her. "It's over now. He can no longer hurt you," He lifts her chin and presses their foreheads together. Danyll chokes on a sob, and he slowly slides down to the ground when Danyll's body paralyses into his touch. Danyll can't admit to anyone but herself that now Hurrey is gone, she feels... free. ' _Is this what freedom feels like?_ ' She thinks, burying her face into Geralt's chest. From being tortured under the grass trials and Vesemir's viper, manipulative training, she can't imagine what it feels like to be liberated on her own accord.

Now she does.

"Vesemir would be proud of you," Geralt reassures her with a soothing whisper, stroking her cheek.

"Would he?" Danyll sighs. "Blood wouldn't shed this terribly if I weren't a witcher, to begin with. I would've become his wife and he would've gotten what he wanted," Danyll shudders an exhale, sitting up. "I can't think about it now. I have to return to my father," She wipes her eyes with the bloodied hand she has. She walks up to the neutral zone between the two worlds with Geralt behind her, holding the reins of Roach and Grand. She looks around. "This war was foolish!" She cries, voice breaking momentarily. "Blood has been shed for a pathetic, cowardice king who dreamt of fucking me and force me to carry his babe," She can't help but smile. "Now that he's gone, we are all liberated! People of Erephere," She turns to the army and knights. "You shan't fear now. Join the people of Ozryn. We are kind and forgiving, regardless of your sings and wrongdoings,"

Danyll saddles herself on Grand, gesturing it by the stirrup iron and Grand proceeds forward. The Erepherens part ways for her stroll, down as she is followed by Geralt, Matildi and Giselle. The fire the Erepherens caused still remains, but since the war had ended, the people of Ozryn down the flames with available water and they begin to cheer for brave witchers that fought for the people, especially Danyll. "Princess Danyll!" They'd cheer as she goes down the lane, feeling benign at the thought of the safety of her people.

"Princess Danyll," The guards of the castle introduces her.

"What an uprising coincidence that they've begun to call me 'princess'," Danyll rolls her eyes, settling Grand at the side of the castle where the rest of the horses are. Geralt, Matildi and Giselle follow Danyll into the castle. Danyll opens the throne room with a push of the large doors; the creaks of the hinge echo throughout the space above. Sitting on the throne is a man in ragged clothes, however, his face tells differently. He has a huge smile. "Ah, father, I find that you've settled into your fashion ways,"

Tebaud chuckles. "Without the help of my daughter, I wouldn't be here. My head would've been on a guillotine, much like your lover here," He stands up and fixes his clothes. Tebaud slowly walks up to Danyll, gripping her shoulders and kisses her forehead. "I gift you my starry gratitude for your service, Danyll. However, I have something to say," He strokes her cheek. "I am an old man with only one daughter, no wife to carry a babe anymore and children who are nowhere to be seen. I must retire to my chambers with bad aches and head spins. I want _you_ to rule Ozryn,"

Danyll blinks her eyes. "Just because of what has happened to you by Hurrey?"

Tebaud inhales sharply. "I shall emphasise with solemn thoughts about how Hurrey is more than a half-century yet he is grown to be greedy. If you believe in tales, he used to be the kindest and a generous man to help his people when he was a prince. Once he had been throned, his age matures badly with his needs — greedy. I don't want that to happen to me. If Ozryn is in good hands of my daughter — a _witcher_ —, I'll lay and die restful,"

"I am honoured, father," Danyll bows in courtesy. "But I am not fit for a life as a queen. I have the thirst of adventure in my blood and constantly try to quench that feeling with justice, regardless if people hate me. However..." Danyll hums, looking at the ground. "You said you only have one daughter, right?" She asks and he nods. "Well, it has come to my attention that there are two girls who are in need of a home and can protect Ozryn while I am gone," She turns around and gestures Matildi and Giselle over. Tebaud inhales sharply. "They are as good as me. They've been trained by Vesemir, like me. I want you to consider them as your next of kin, like your flesh and blood. Once you're ready to retire to your chambers for the next half-century, one of them can take over for me,"

"If that is what you think best," Tebaud hums. "My daughters," He smiles, hugging Matildi and Giselle, whisking them away for their new resting chambers.

Danyll chuckles. "At least he won't be alone while I'm gone,"

"I'm sure he understands why you're gone," Geralt says. "Don't you intend to stay here? You'll be the first witcher in the whole realm to become queen — a monarch itself,"

She hums, smiling. "Tebaud and Vesemir have always said to follow where destiny brings me. She turns around, walking down the red carpet that was used for the wedding. "Where will you bring me now, Geralt of Rivia?"


	39. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶-𝔰𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫

* * *

Birds chirping like a melody from a bard's tale on a stage — music to Danyll's ears after the commotion that's occurred in prior days. Danyll feels warmth wrapping around her arms as she inhales and exhales softly, and the air breathed flares back into her face gently as if someone's beside her. She'd love to see who's she gotten in bed with this time, but her eyelids are too heavy to carry themselves for a, possibly, horrid sight. Then, fingers begin stroking her hairline, running down her silver hair and to her cheeks. She can comprehend who's humming softly as he's waking up from her slumber.

"I know you're awake," Geralt says with a smiling tone.

"Seconded," Danyll hums.

"It has been a few days since the civil war," Geralt mentions; Danyll cringes. "You began to have nightmares — Orsenne that, Orsenne this; Hurrey, too,"

"Thank you for waking me up," She sighs with sarcasm in her breathing. Danyll slowly pries herself from Geralt's hold, but he strengthens his grip and yanks her back into his arms and Geralt hugs her with both arms. "Geralt..." She sighs, wanting to leave their position at all cost but as the minutes — the sun's shadow covering through the clouds — pass by, Danyll sinks into his warmth, like butter under heat. "Alondra showed me an alternate destiny," Danyll whispers, enough for his heightened senses to pick up. She can feel Geralt's body tense. "Some sort of... _universe_ that exists in the cracks of time."

"Is that possible?" Geralt scoffs at the thought.

"We live in a realm where magic, wizards and mages are real, and our kind, too," Danyll caresses Geralt's sides that it starts to loosen up. He sighs, shutting his eyes. "It was a realm where we weren't witchers. We were married personages, kids roaming around our farm and..." Danyll clenches her hand tightly to the point of whitening knuckles. "Vesemir approached us with Osenne, who, instead of honing her magic abilities, trained to be a witcher," Danyll explains with a breath clogged in her throat. She struggles to speak but coughs. "He and Osenne were there to take our children and put them through the trials-"

"Danyll," Geralt pulls her completely on top of him, their bare chests touching against one another and Danyll's arms are pinned with one of Geralt's so that he can use the other free hand to run it through her hair before stroking her cheek. "Whatever Alondra had told you. It is a _falsified_ destiny. Maybe..." He looks directly into her ruby eyes with his yellow sapphire eyes. "There is a world out there where we're completely in love, like we are now, and are capable of bearing our own children, but there is no possibility that Osenne will _ever_ be a witcher. The chaos in her mind is too strong; Vesemir has an eye for those kinds of things. She should have been grateful for training under Aretuza, but sadly, she came out more chaotic than the principal can expect,"

"What if that 'falsified' destiny is Osenne in _my_ shoes right now?" Danyll shuts her ruby eyes, but Geralt's thumb caresses away the tear falling down her cheek. She scoffs, briefly kissing Geralt's lips. "Why are you even with a nonsensical woman like me?" She's about to pull herself off of him once more, but his arms are wrapped around her.

"Because," Geralt gently places her down onto the bed, exchanging positions as he traces his fingers against her cheek. "I have waited too long to find destiny for me," He leans closer, his breathing hot against her upper lip. "When destiny's always been by my side since I became a witcher in-training," He slots his pink lips between her pale ones, and their lips memorise the moment for a moment before seducing each other with tongues dancing, and Geralt traces his hand down to her hip, pulling her close to him and Danyll wraps one hand against his neck. "I really like you, Danyll," Geralt confesses in the heat of the moment, pulling away. "I am a witcher, but I _know_ I like you."

"Shut up," Danyll rolls her eyes and pulls Geralt back into their kissing session, and Geralt lays his hand against the cupid of her back, and he lays down beside her and Danyll sits on his waist. They look into each other's eyes for a while and Danyll smiles softly. "Thank you for saving me, Geralt,"

"You were never a damsel in distress," Geralt smiles.

"I'm a damsel always in distress, but I'm grateful that our destinies collided with each other," Danyll traces her fingers between his chest muscles. Suddenly, the door to their guest room swings open and Danyll covers herself with the blanket, along with Geralt's exposed abdomen. She sees Grandma Poppy bringing in folded clothes in hands. "Grandma Poppy!" She groans.

"There is nothing new to show, Danyll," Grandma Poppy chuckles. "I have seen you naked multiple times. All of them were well-spent helping you out of your puke-soaked attire. Here," She approaches the bed and places the folded articles of clothing onto the end of the bed. "You _do_ remember your sister's coronation lies today, yes?"

"Giselle's excited," Geralt comments, relieved that it's not Matildi who's walked into them completely naked. "And are you _sure_ that Danyll's ready to hear Giselle and Matildi be her 'sisters'?"

"I think it's about damn time," Grandma Poppy says, guffawing. "I've prepared the bath for you, Danyll. You still stink like a sacrificed cow. I am still baffled how Geralt can hold in that stench for this long," She shakes her head in disappointment.

"He smells like onion, it's _worse_ ," Danyll strokes Geralt's hair and walks out of the bedroom to walk into the guest bathroom, where there's a wooden tub filled with hot water — hot enough to have steam fly in the air. Danyll shuts the door behind her and dips her cold foot (first) into the surface of the water before engulfing herself in pure gravitas. She leans her head against the side, hair flowing down.

"How was your bath?" Grandma Poppy asks, dusting the ground as Danyll leaves the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her torso and abdomen, exposing her skin gleaming with warm water. "You were in there for a _long_ time,"

"It was fine, Grandma Poppy," Danyll smiles, walking into the guest bedroom and finds Geralt wearing royal attire. Danyll whistles in amazement. "Do I see Ozryn's next prince?" She asks, smirking.

"Don't push it," Geralt fixes his sleeves, smiling.

Danyll's dressed in a royal fashion, with her navy blue dress that King Tebaud's personal tailor had sewn for her for the past few days. She's amazed at the artwork as the sleeves are like angel's wings, expanding and swaying with every motion she does. Once everyone's done themselves into proper attire, Grandma Poppy is helped down the stairs when they realise that King Tebaud's sent his guards to accompany Geralt, Danyll and Grandma Poppy to the church in a royal chariot. They climb into the box slowly but surely.

"I can't imagine what it feels like to be Giselle at the moment," Grandma Poppy says as the three of them sway while the chariot's moving. "Surrounded by maidens she barely knows,"

"Matildi is there with her," Geralt says.

"Yes, however, I'm sure she's truly elated with the reality that she will be the first _female_ witcher to be a monarch," Danyll says, looking outside the window and instantly feels warmth as Geralt's snuck his hands into her's. Danyll looks at Geralt and smiles. "There are a lot of people excited to see Ozryn in the reign of a lady,"

It doesn't take a long time for Danyll to arrive at the church with Geralt and Grandma Poppy. The people of Ozryn, including those who have become atheists in the name of Erephere, cheer for their infinite guardian, Danyll. Danyll forces a smile, feeling instant discomfort under this limelight. Danyll hooks her arm with Geralt's as they walk into the church, taking their places beside Matildi and fellow witchers that helped them with the war against Hurrey. Danyll exchanges a brief hug with Matildi while Geralt simply nods at her.

All rises as the cheerful music of entry resound throughout the church and Danyll turns to see Giselle in a large gown with the train of her dress lifted by the farm boys she knows to have helped Tebaud with chores around the castle. Slowly, Giselle walks down the aisle as if she's about to be carried away for marriage, but not this time (or ever). Giselle looks at her witcher family through the peripheral vision and Danyll gives her impressed complexion that Giselle's not smiling.

Everyone smiles as the father of the church declares the duties of a newly coronated queen, and that King Tebaud consents of his dethronement. Danyll holds onto Geralt's hand tightly as Giselle announces her duties and the father allows her to sit on the red throne with a staff in hand and a large, golden crown atop of her head.

Finally, Ozryn has a new queen.


End file.
